


Interview Me

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Sarcasm, Smut, bad boy Yuuri Katsuki, fashionista Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: Victor Nikiforov, the editor of Runway, knows that there isn’t anyone out there he can’t handle. Or so he thinks until he meets Yuuri Katsuki, one of the world’s top figure skaters.Part 1 of 2 of the swap of Yuuris between my ficsBad AppleandThe Devil Wears Gucci, but can be read without reading either of those fics.





	1. An Interview not a Date

**Author's Note:**

> Me: So I just got this great idea for an AU.  
> Anyone who knows me: But what about those 9 other things you’re writing?  
> Me: *writes it anyway* Don’t worry, it’s just a one-shot. *4 000 words later* Oops.  
> 

Yuri was at the end of his rope. He went through various curses in his head, but they all fell short of expressing his frustration. Just his luck that not only was it the busiest time of the year, but Victor recently fired his second assistant, leaving him to pull the weight of two people. And now some figure skater was coming that Victor insisted on interviewing for the next issue.

A figure skater!

Yuri rubbed his temples with his fingers. It was going to be another one of those days.

The door swung open and a young man barged in. He had an attitude that could be seen a mile off. He stopped at Yuri’s desk and towered over him.

“I’m here for my interview,” he said and rolled his eyes. “Although, I’m still not sure why I bothered.”

Yuri sat up straight and gave him a withering look that was meant to show that there was no way he was going to be intimidated by a man in a leather jacket with the air of a delinquent. He was a respectable office worker and could deal with any crisis while still keeping his cool.

“If you can please wait, I will go and tell the editor you’re here.”

The skater found a wall to lean against. He smirked at Yuri. “Run along, kid.”

“I-I’m not --!” he started to protest.

“Oh, don’t get your feathers all ruffled. Just tell the organ grinder that I’m here and go finish filing your nails, or whatever it is you monkeys do around here.”

Yuri glared at him and marched into Victor’s office.

 

Victor Nikiforov looked up from the stack of magazines on his desk and watched Yuri walk in with an unamused expression on his face. What was it now? How could he work with these constant interruptions?

“That skater is here,” Yuri said, “the one you wanted to interview.”

Two issues ago someone ran a celebrity popularity poll to see who was the most popular one with their viewers. To everyone’s surprise, the winner was a figure skater. There was nothing left to do but to invite and interview him.

Victor decided he would conduct the interview himself.

He didn’t know anything about figure skating. He didn’t even know what this figure skater looked like. He lowered his eyes and read his name off the piece of paper on his desk provided by his assistant earlier that day.

 _Yuuri Katsuki_.

“He can come in,” Victor said.

Yuuri walked in like he owned the place. Victor stared, unable to stop himself. It was no wonder he was so popular! He was, well, he was exactly like the old cliché: tall, dark and handsome. He had that bad boy look that, while being slightly old-fashioned, never really went out of style (at least in Victor Nikiforov’s book). If his figure skating was as good as… He stopped that thought before it could get into dangerous territory.

This was going to be a strictly professional interview.

“Good morning, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Just call me Yuuri,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Mr. Katsuki is my dad.”

“Then you can call me Victor.” He stood up and held out his hand.

Yuuri stared at it and then dropped into the chair on the other side of his desk. He raised his feet and put them on the stack of magazines Victor had been reading earlier.

Victor gave his feet a pointed look, but Yuuri didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Can you take your feet off my desk?”

“If you insist.” Yuuri lowered his feet. “Okay, what is this really about?”

“Didn’t you read the letter? I want to interview you.”

“Why?”

“You are really popular with our viewers, so we wanted to do a piece about…”

Yuuri snorted. “That’s it? Your assistant called my coach in the middle of the night, got into a big fight with him (nice one there, by the way: he’s still sulking), booked me a flight and hotel and then got me over here for an _interview_? And you expect me to _believe_ _that_?”

“We take things seriously here at _Runway_.”

“That’s one way of saying it.”

“Do you agree to an interview, then?” He wasn’t going to surrender no matter what.

Yuuri reclined in the seat and put his hands behind his head. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“Actually, I thought we could talk over lunch.”

The skater gave him a suspicious look. “Lunch?”

“Yes,” Victor answered. “Is there a problem?”

“No, but this is starting to sound like a date.”

“An interview over lunch sounds like a date?” It took all of Victor’s willpower to keep his voice steady, but he wasn’t going to back down no matter what.

“I’m not stupid,” the skater said and leaned forward. “I saw the way you looked at me when I came in.”

Victor cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is strictly an interview for the magazine.”

“Sure.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Fly me halfway across the globe for an _interview_.”

“Do you have something against interviews? Or,” Victor went on, warming up to his subject, “maybe you’re afraid that this _will_ be a date?”

Yuuri gave him a cold look and for the first time in his life Victor was genuinely terrified. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

And Victor believed that.

Yuuri stood up. “Alright. I accept your definitely-an-interview-and-not-a-date lunch.”

“O-or,” Victor cursed himself mentally that his voice shook at just the wrong moment, “we could meet for dinner.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

“I have a pressing deadline and would be very grateful if we could move the interview to dinner time.”

Yuuri didn’t even stop to consider. “Only if you’re paying.”

“Of course,” Victor smiled.

Yuuri turned around and left.

Victor stared after him in amazement, glad there was no one to see the expression on his face. _Holy crap! What was that?_ Too late he realized he forgot to settle on a time and called his assistant in to sort that out.

 

Yuuri arrived fifteen minutes late and found Victor pretending to read a magazine to hide his embarrassment. Victor raised his eyes and his gaze swept over Yuuri. He was still wearing the same clothes as that morning, but for the first time in Victor’s life that didn’t matter.

Yuuri, on his part, was taking in Victor’s appearance. He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t have to change your clothes!”

Victor stood up and smiled in a way that always made his dates blush and stumble over their words. It didn’t even faze Yuuri. “Of course I did. Are you ready?”

“And what would you do, if I said no?”

“There’s a Wardrobe here, if you want –”

“ _Hell_ , no!” Yuuri turned away and made for the door. “I’m not a little doll for you to play dress-up with. And I’m certainly not one of your models.”

“You could be. Don’t some skaters do modelling work on the side?”

For some reason this question made Yuuri chuckle. “Oh they’re doing _something_ on the side. I wouldn’t call it modelling, though.”

Victor nodded knowingly. It sounded like skaters led very interesting lives. Much more interesting than his, he realized with a pang and then did his best to suppress the thought.

Yuri was still at his desk when they walked past him.

“Have you found any likely candidates yet?” Victor asked, not even stopping.

“Yes, Victor,” Yuri said.

“Good. I will review them tomorrow.” He continued walking towards the elevator and Yuuri followed.

“Candidates for what?”

“I need a second assistant,” Victor told him.

“What do you need two assistants for? Do the two assistants take turns waiting on you or something?”

“There are always many errands to run.”

Yuuri snorted. “Can’t you fetch your own coffee, Princess?”

Victor gave him an affronted look. “I’m too busy.”

“So you buy yourself a slave.”

They stood in the elevator as it headed for the ground floor. Victor tried not to think about how small the elevator was.

“My assistants aren’t slaves,” Victor protested.

“That’s what you think.”

“We do a serious job here at _Runway_. It’s a job that a million people will kill for and everyone here knows how lucky they are to be here.”

“Living the dream? I’ve seen those neurotic anorexics of yours run around.” Yuuri snorted. “Does anyone here ever explode from the stress?”

Victor didn’t dignify that question with a response. This amused Yuuri even more.

They left the building and the cold spring air made Victor give an involuntary shudder.

“So where is this place?” Yuuri asked in a tone of voice that suggested that he didn’t actually care.

“My driver will take us.” He waved at his car.

“You’re kidding!” Yuuri burst out laughing. “Pink?”

“Do you have a problem with pink?”

“I was wrong. You’re not a princess. You’re Barbie!” He raised Victor’s hand, laying it flat over his own with the fingers splayed out so he could study them. “Look, you’ve got manicured nails,” he looked into Victor’s face, “and you’re even wearing makeup!” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not made out of plastic, are you?”

Victor snatched his hand away and straightened up indignantly. “I’ve _never_ had plastic surgery!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Yuuri turned away and headed back for the building. “I’ll keep it in mind, though.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not riding in _that_!” he exclaimed, indicating the car with his thumb.

“B-but –”

“Luckily, I brought my own ride.” Yuuri pointed and Victor noticed the motorcycle standing by the road. “I left the helmets with security.”

“I-I’m not riding a motorcycle!” Victor protested. “It will mess – I-I mean: it’s not safe!”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “Worried it will mess up your hair? Oh boo hoo, Princess! I’m sure you can get your stylists to run over there and fix it. Don’t you always have stylists on standby in case you break a nail, or something?”

“I’ll have you know –”

“Yes, Princess?”

Victor closed his mouth and took in the expression on Yuuri’s face. Yuuri smirked and went back inside the Elias-Clarke building.

 

They were on their way there when Yuuri pulled over. “Okay, I’ve had enough. Just admit it: you have no idea where it is,” he said.

Up until this point, he’d been following Victor’s instructions. It didn’t take him long to work out that they were going in circles around the same block. In fact, it took Yuuri exactly one trip around the block.

“I know where it is!” Victor argued.

“What’s it called?” Yuuri pulled out his phone.

“I said I know where it is!”

“Is it some kind of secret?” Yuuri went on, unwilling to back down.

Victor gave in and told him.

Yuuri punched the name into his phone and then stuck it in the top pocket of his jacket. A voice told him to make a U-turn and go the other way. “Ready, Princess?”

“Can you not call me that?”

“Does it offend you?”

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed. “I-I mean: no,” he corrected himself. _If I say ‘yes’, then he will keep doing it to annoy me, but if I say ‘no’ maybe he’ll stop. I know how his kind thinks._

“I can keep using it, then,” Yuuri said. “Alright, hang on tight, _Princess_.”

Victor grabbed Yuuri around the waist, cursing everything. He felt like he could fall off any minute, no matter how tightly he hung on. Yuuri’s good looks didn’t make up for this situation in the slightest.

After several turns, just as they were getting close to their destination Yuuri chuckled.

“What so funny?” Victor demanded, certain he was going to be the butt of the joke yet again.

“We barely know each other and already you’re using this opportunity to feel me up,” Yuuri answered.

Victor slid his hands back down to Yuuri’s waist. He only wanted to find a more comfortable way to hold on to his driver.

“You don’t have to stop,” Yuuri laughed. “I was actually enjoying it.”

“I was only trying to find a more comfortable way to –” Victor protested. It was a blessing he was wearing a helmet and sitting behind Yuuri so that the skater couldn’t see the blush in his cheeks.

“Running your hands over my chest makes you more comfortable? The fashion industry is much more exciting than I thought!” He laughed again.

“I’ll have you know that the fashion industry is very interesting and important!” Victor exclaimed, feeling as if his own pride was wounded in some way.

“Oh yes: what colour will you wear today? Red or blue? If you wear the wrong colour then empires will fall! And we’ll get into another war!” Where did Yuuri get all his sarcasm from? It never seemed to run out! And Victor really wanted to make him run out.

“Fashion is an art!” Victor began. “People live their whole lives –”

“I’ll bet they do! Anyway, save your promotional speech for someone who cares: we’re there.” He went around to find a parking spot and then they both climbed off.

Yuuri carried both their helmets as they walked into the restaurant and handed it to the first member of staff he saw with a thinly veiled threat promising something unpleasant should anything happen to them. The first thing Victor did, on the other hand, when they came in was to head for a mirror to try and fix the damage the helmet had done to his hairstyle.

“No stylists on standby?” Yuuri asked. “You can use mine.” He pulled a comb out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Victor.

Victor eyed it and then Yuuri’s jelled-back hair. “I don’t need it,” he said, turning back to the mirror.

Yuuri swept one hand over his head and smirked, apparently satisfied with the results. Victor watched his reflection out of the corner of his eye as he tried to fix his own hair.

“I’m ready,” he said at last.

“Hold on.” Yuuri reached out and ruffled Victor’s hair. “Much better.” He turned around and, ignoring Victor’s exclamation, went to ask about their table.

Victor turned back to the mirror with an exasperated sigh. The conversation at the front desk carried over to him as he tried to undo the effect of Yuuri’s actions.

“Hello! I think Princess made a reservation for the two of us,” Yuuri said.

“P-princess?” a terrified-looking maître d’ spluttered out. _I bet he’d never had a customer like Yuuri. The poor man probably doesn’t know what to do._

Yuuri laughed. “I meant Victor Nikiforov. He’s over there, trying to get every strand of hair in the right place.”

The maître d’ stuttered, cleared his throat and said in a voice that was shaking only a little bit, “I’ll just check – I mean, Victor Nikiforov, yes, of course! Your table is over this way!”

Victor sighed. It was no good. His hair was still all wrong.

“Come on, Princess!” Yuuri called. “Our table is ready. Don’t worry about your hair: it looks better the way it is now.”

Victor walked over in as dignified a way as he could. _How do I stop him mocking me? I feel ridiculous!_ He took a seat at the table and tried his best to stop thinking about his messed up hair.

“Is this where you take everyone on their first date?” Yuuri asked.

“It’s classy,” Victor said defensively.

“Sure. If you’re old and rich.”

 _I can’t lose to him! I refuse to do it!_ “Fine. Where would _you_ take someone on their first date?”

Yuuri gave this question some consideration. “Depends on who they are, I suppose. Someone like you I’d take to a burger joint with the greasiest food in the shadiest part of town.” Victor shuddered. “You would eat with the commoners there, the peasants.” Yuuri leaned forward against the table. “Where it’s packed with stinky, dirty people who are underfed and underpaid. This big buff guy sits down next to you and you’re sitting there trembling like… like you’re doing now, in fact, trying hard not to wet your pants and all you can think is ‘dear God, don’t let him rob or kill me’.”

Victor’s mouth hung open. “And?” he asked quietly.

“And all he wants is for you to pass the ketchup, or something.” Yuuri sat back. “He’s probably a nice guy with a wife and four kids at home.”

Victor breathed out and adjusted his tie. He brushed himself off, as if trying to get rid of the stench and dirt of that imaginary place. “And you’d take me to a place like that? Why?”

“Because you look like someone who needs to get a right smack over the ears.” Yuuri grinned. “Or just accidentally elbowed in the face.”

“Hmph!” Victor straightened up. “Well, I don’t think… That’s not appealing at all.”

“Oh really? I’m sure you’ll be over the moon when your date whisks you away somewhere clean, or just into the fresh air.” Yuuri leaned forward again. “And I’ll just bet there’ll be some hot, steamy sex to follow.”

Victor’s face turned red and he coughed nervously. He pulled out his signature handkerchief, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I-I don’t think…”

“And I expect a rich bastard like you has a really odd kink.” Yuuri studied Victor thoughtfully. “Definitely, because where’s the fun in doing things the normal way?”

Victor tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket. His heart was beating fast. He’d never been talked to this way before! “And then what?”

“Oh,” Yuuri waved his hand dismissively. “I expect that you’ll wake up the morning after all flustered because your hair is a mess and you’re not dressed as fashionably as the night before (or just not dressed at all, ha), or…” Yuuri paused. There was a dark smile on his face.

“Or?” Victor whispered.

“Or your date woke up before you and walked out on your selfish –”

“May I take your order?” the waiter cut in with impeccable timing.

Victor pretended to study the menu with a serious expression on his face. “I’ll have you know,” he said to Yuuri, “that my dates have always been satisfied with me.”

“Have they? Or were they too terrified of you to say anything?”

“Should I come back?” the waiter asked, visibly uncomfortable with being an accidental witness to their conversation.

“No,” Victor said. “I’m ready to order. I always know what I want.”

Yuuri picked up a fork and fiddled with it absent-mindedly. “When was the last time someone said ‘no’ to you, Princess?”

“Everyone always does what I tell them,” he retorted. It wasn’t strictly true, but arguments with the Chairman of the Elias-Clarke publishing company that ended in Victor winning didn’t count.

“That long, huh?”

The waiter looked ready to make a run for it.

Victor smiled politely at him. “We’ll take the –”

“No,” Yuuri interrupted. “Do you serve steak or is that too fancy for a stuck up place like this?”

The waiter eyed him as if he’d been personally offended. “Of course!”

“I’ll have it rare and the Princess here will…” Yuuri paused and studied Victor, “…take it medium done.”

“Yuuri –” Victor began.

“Well done, then. Do you think you can manage that?”

The waiter nodded, took their menus and left.

“When was the last time someone said ‘no’ to you?” Yuuri repeated his question.

Victor smiled. “Ten seconds ago.” He reached out and took Yuuri’s hand with both of his. He hesitated for only a second before raising it to his lips. He was determined to have the last word. He’d get a blush out of Yuuri before the evening was done!

“A bit old fashioned, don’t you think?” Yuuri pulled his hand away just as the waiter showed up with the breadbasket.

Yuuri watched Victor take a piece of bread, cover it with butter and put it in his mouth. Under the table he reached out with his foot and slid it up against Victor’s.

Victor choked on his bread. Yuuri burst out laughing.

“A-are you trying to…” Victor stammered out and then coughed and coughed until he managed to clear his throat. “What was that?”

“Just trying to demonstrate something more modern. I forgot this was an interview and not a date.” Yuuri cast a look around the room and returned his attention to Victor. “Are you going to publish all of this in your magazine?”

Victor realized he’d let himself get carried away and completely forgot about the reason for their meeting. “R-right. I have a few questions here.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his inside pocket. Yuri had prepared them for him earlier.

Yuuri snatched it out of his hand and studied it. “Just as I thought: really standard stuff. Do you ever get tired of being so boring and predictable?”

He folded the paper up and stuck it in his own pocket.

Victor suppressed the urge to demand that Yuuri gave the paper back. What was the first question on the list? Oh, yes. “How did you get into figure skating?”

“An angel descended from the skies and said ‘don’t be an idiot. Don’t go into the fashion industry. They’re all blockheads. Go become a chef.’ So I became a figure skater.”

Victor gave an exasperated sigh. “You agreed to an interview. Can you answer my questions seriously?”

“All of these questions,” Yuuri pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it in front of Victor’s face, “can be answered with a simple Google search.” He handed the paper back to Victor. “I thought you’d ask me something more interesting.”

Victor imagined writing the article. _I dined with Yuuri Katsuki, the living legend of figure skating, and got to know the man as he really is. He doesn’t tolerate nonsense and is always straightforward and honest to the point of sounding harsh._ Yuuri Katsuki would _hate_ an article written like that. Maybe he’d write it after all.

“Normally I’d hold someone like you hostage for money,” Yuuri said, “and milk you for every penny you own.” He shrugged. “I know I’m a bastard, but,” he leaned forward again, “at least I’m not a slave driver and I don’t pretend that I’m doing everyone a great service by existing, or hide terrible things behind polite terms.”

Victor calmed himself by imaging what else he could put in the article. He lowered his eyes and stared at his fingers. The expressions on Yuuri’s face were making it hard to focus on any one thought for a long time.

“It’s lucky for you I have a weakness for beautiful things.” Yuuri rested his chin on his hand and there was that smirk again. “And that includes editors with sticks up their backsides.”

Victor said nothing. What could he say to a remark like that?

The waiter came to his rescue by arriving with their food. He placed one plate in front of Victor and the second one – in front of Yuuri.

Yuuri laughed, taking in the small steak in the middle of the big plate. “What’s this? Did they run out of steak? Or is this the last steak left on Earth?”

Victor said nothing. Obviously Yuuri knew nothing about food served in fashionable restaurants. He picked up his fork and knife and cut a piece off.

Yuuri swung out his arm and knocked the fork out of Victor’s hand. “Don’t touch it!” He grabbed the waiter by the wrist. “What is that smell?”

“Sir! What are you talking about?” The waiter’s eyes were rolling around in their sockets in alarm.

“Smell these steaks. What do they smell like?”

“Really, sir…” Yuuri squeezed the waiter’s hand. “Please, sir, it’s…”

“Well?”

“Poison.” The waiter admitted and squeezed his eyes shut.

Yuuri whipped a gun out of his pocket and shot the waiter. Then he jumped out of his seat and grabbed Victor’s arm. “Take your things and let’s go!”

“You killed him!”

“He was going to kill us! Come on, let’s go!”

Victor snatched up his things and the two of them ran. Yuuri had enough presence of mind to retrieve their helmets before they were out on the street and back on the motorcycle.

“Ready?”

“You killed him! You actually killed him! Why do you have a gun?” Too late Victor realized that maybe the correct course of action was to run _away_ from Yuuri, instead of running with him.

“Give the boy a prize. Yes, excellent observation skills, Sherlock Holmes. Now get on the bike and _let’s go_!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Victor backed away.

Yuuri sighed. “Fine. Go back in there. I’m sure dying from a bullet is better than dying from poison and since I just made that choice for both of us, bullets is what they’re going to try next.”

There were screams coming inside the restaurant. Victor rushed to Yuuri’s side. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Yuuri got on the bike and Victor climbed on behind him.

“You’re taking all this in your stride,” Victor noticed. “Are people always trying to kill you? And who were they?”

“Yes. And no I don’t always know who is behind it.” Yuuri put his helmet on. “Shockingly when people are shooting at me I don’t have time to stop and ask for their business cards. Tell you what, Princess, next time someone shoots at us _you_ can ask for their business card.” He grabbed the handles of his bike and added, “Hold on tight.”

Victor clung on as they sped off. Yuuri made several sharp turns and ran a few red lights. _Oh my God! He’s going over the speed limit! We’re going to die! I can’t believe it! I’m going to die on a motorcycle!_

“Where is your castle, Princess?” Yuuri asked.

“What? …Fifth Avenue.” He was too terrified to be able to remember his exact address. Any longer on the bike and he would probably forget what his name was.

“Of course it is.”

They went for another hour. Yuuri doubled back several times, but no one seemed to be chasing them. He turned onto Fifth Avenue and narrowly avoided an expensive car.

Finally Yuuri stopped, but Victor felt like they were still going. The world was still flashing by and going around. It felt like… “I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster,” he mumbled, pulling his helmet off and begging the world to stop spinning.

“That was nothing,” Yuuri said, pulling off his own helmet. Then, without any warning whatsoever, he turned around and kissed him. Victor felt Yuuri’s tongue in his mouth and put one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder to steady himself.

Yuuri was right: that motorcycle ride had been nothing. His head was _really_ spinning now, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

He broke the kiss and smiled as if it was no big deal, as if he was used to handsome men taking him around town on their motorcycles and leaving tastes of themselves in his mouth. “Do you kiss everyone on your first date?”

“I thought this was an interview and not a date.”

Victor climbed off the motorcycle and tried to laugh it off. “You’re right. It was an interview. Not a date.” Something inside him protested at this, but he ignored it. He focused on not falling over instead, still feeling slightly dizzy after the ride.

Yuuri took the helmet out of Victor’s hands. “Call me sometime. If you can find room in that busy schedule of yours.” There was that smirk on his face again. “And maybe I’ll take you on an actual date.”

Victor put his hands in his pockets. “I might,” he said and tried not to think about Yuuri’s description of a date.

Yuuri reached out and snatched the handkerchief Victor kept in his breast pocket. He wiped his face with it and tossed it back to Victor who struggled to catch it before it could fall on the ground. “See you around, Princess!” he exclaimed and put his helmet back on.

With a loud revving noise he was off, leaving Victor to stare after him. “See you… around.”

He held the handkerchief to his face, taking in the smell that lingered there. Maybe he should look into figure skating. He’d always thought it was an interesting sport. He would need to get Yuri to find out when the next competition was and buy him tickets.

Satisfied with that, he tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket and headed home.


	2. Cat and Mouse

It was the morning of the Japanese Nationals and Yuuri Katsuki’s coach found his pupil standing in a hallway, deep in a conversation on the phone.

“No, I’m _not_ going over there. Listen, tell Princess I said these words exactly: ‘I am busy winning another gold medal. I refuse to haul my ass over there each time he feels like seeing me. If he wants that date so badly, he can damn well haul his ass over here.’ Got that? Did you write it down? Good. Next: I don’t mind if you want to talk to me, then, sure, by all means call me. Obviously, you and I don’t want to talk to each other, but the offer still stands. If he wants to talk to me, then he needs to call me himself and don’t put him through, or connect our calls, or whatever it is you secretaries do with phones. Tell him to pick up his phone and call like a regular person. If that means that he needs to _learn_ how to use the phone, then tell him this from me: welcome to the 21 st century, Princess! Time to damn well learn. You got that? Good. Now go get your hair done, or whatever, I have a competition to win.”

He hung up and turned around to face his coach. “Can you believe this guy? He was going to buy me tickets to fly me to New York tomorrow!”

Yuuri’s coach gave him a wary look. “Who was that?”

“Oh just the assistant of a guy I went out with while in New York.” Yuuri sighed. “He’s got looks and that’s about it (I mean the guy I went out with, not the assistant, obviously). Can you believe no one’s ever said ‘no’ to him before? Two weeks I’ve been playing broken telephone through his assistant just to figure out he’s missing a big chunk of his vocabulary! I’m going to have to go through the whole dictionary with him page by page. I think I’ll start with the word ‘please’.”

“Listen, Yuuri, we’ll deal with this later. You need to focus. Practice will start in ten minutes.”

Yuuri’s phone rang. He waited to see if his coach would say anything else, but when the man remained silent Yuuri took the call.

“Good morning, Princess! Are you going to give me a breakdown of everything you’re wearing right now?” He listened to the response and laughed. “Oh, really? Well, isn’t that nice? Anyway, I’m off to compete now.”

There was more conversation on the other side.

“Ah, well, I don’t need luck, but you might. So are you coming here any time this century, or what?”

He chuckled and hung up. Yuuri handed his phone to his coach. “If that idiot calls again, tell him I won’t talk to him unless he gets over here.”

“Really, Yuuri!” his coach protested. “With all these competitions coming up, do you really think you can deal with more distractions?”

“He isn’t much of a distraction,” Yuuri said. “He really, _really_ isn’t.”

 

Victor lay in the bathtub and stared at the TV mounted on the wall opposite. The Japanese Nationals were about to start. There was a cooler with ice and a bottle of champagne on the floor next to the bathtub. He reached out for it, pulled it out and poured himself a glass.

Two weeks passed since he’d met Yuuri Katsuki and still he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the promised date, but Yuuri obstinately refused to return to New York. He remembered the many arguments they’d had on the topic. They usually ran along the same lines.

“I have medals to win,” Yuuri would insist.

“And I have the next issue to get together,” Victor would counter.

And Yuuri would hang up without another word.

 

_You can’t do this to me, Yuuri! I need to see you again. And I know you want to see me too._

Yuuri certainly called him often enough. He’d call at the least opportune moments imaginable and Victor wondered if he somehow managed to do that on purpose. Knowing Yuuri, the answer was probably yes. One time Yuuri had even called while Victor sat in a meeting.

_Victor took the call while still in the room with everyone else._

_“Hello, Victor.” The way he said it made a shiver crawl down Victor’s spine. “What are you wearing right now?”_

_It was lucky for him that everyone else was too busy arguing over the cover image for the next issue to notice that the editor’s face was turning red._

_“Because, personally, I’m completely…” he paused. “You haven’t got me on mute or speakerphone, have you?”_

_“No,” Victor said in a voice that didn’t sound like his._

_“Oh good.”_

_“I’m in a meeting,” Victor added and cursed himself._

_On cue, everyone in the room turned and stared at him._

_“Ah. Well, tell them to go take a break and do whatever it is they do to calm down and talk to me. They could probably do with calming their nerves anyway.”_

_Victor stood up. “I have to deal with this phone call,” he said and left the room._

_He returned to his office before continuing. “Yes?”_

_“I’m calling to say that the offer of steamy sex expires in a few days. Maybe you think playing cat and mouse is cute, but, frankly, I think it’s annoying,” Yuuri went on._

_“I… uh… are you asking me out on a date?” Victor asked._

_“Bravo! Listen, how the hell did you become an editor of – oh, never mind, I just answered my own question.” Yuuri laughed. “Well?”_

_“Well what?”_

_“Date?”_

_“I… Will it,” he cleared his throat, “will it be like the one you promised?”_

_“Oh no.” Victor breathed out a sigh of relief. “It will be worse and if you keep trying my patience, it will be even worse than that.”_

_Victor sat at his desk and listened to Yuuri’s voice._

_“So why don’t you drag it out and find out just how bad it can get?” Yuuri hung up._

_Victor sighed. “I’m_ not _playing cat and mouse,” he said aloud even though Yuuri couldn’t hear him anymore. “Although, I wish I was, because that would mean that I haven’t lost already.”_

 

Victor drank slowly from the glass while on the TV screen the skaters finished their practice. Yuuri was scheduled to go last. He sighed and reclined in the bathtub. Now even the competition seemed to be messing with him. He wondered if Yuuri was responsible for that too.

He’d tried everything to get Yuuri to come to him, but the outcome seemed inevitable: he would have to go over there. Was it too late to call it quits?

No, he’d decided that evening when he’d watched Yuuri ride away, he wasn’t going to give in. Yuuri would be the one chasing him in the end. He clutched the glass to his chest absent-mindedly.

“And next on the ice is Minami Kenjiro!”

Victor’s eyes flickered to the screen. By some odd coincidence the camera swept over the audience and paused for several seconds on Yuuri. The skater was talking calmly to his coach.

Everything about him gave away his rebellious personality. He didn’t wear his country’s jersey like the other skaters did, but his leather jacket. The same leather jacket he’d worn when they’d first met.

Victor closed his eyes and pictured the skater in the first few seconds he’d seen him. He often did that these days. After a rough day at work he’d come home, take a bath and imagine Yuuri.

Once he’d called just as Victor remembered the touch and taste of the kiss.

 

_“Yes? Victor speaking.”_

_“Bad time?” Yuuri’s voice cut in and Victor sat bolt upright. “Only you sound like…” Yuuri chuckled. “Did you find someone else?”_

_“What? N-no!” he protested passionately and knew he’d lost, and, what was worse, that his opponent knew he’d won._

_“Ah. Well.” Yuuri chuckled again. “In that case I won’t ask you what you are doing, because the answer is obvious.”_

_“I’m taking a bath!” Victor protested and, again, cursed himself for not having thought of something better to say._

_“And you take your phone with you just in case someone calls about a hairstyling emergency?”_

_He listened to Yuuri’s laugh and blushed and then got angry at both himself and Yuuri. So what if he_ had _been with someone? He was an adult and could do what he liked! And what would Yuuri do? Get jealous?_

_Would Yuuri get jealous?_

_“What are you wearing right now?” he half whispered into the phone and waited for Yuuri to sound flustered._

_“Mostly someone else’s blood.”_

_Victor’s heart hammered in his chest. “Who was it?” he asked quietly._

_“Oh, a right bastard. Extortion, rape, murder, you name it – he’s done it.”_

_“Why did you kill him?”_

_“He was getting in the way.” Yuuri’s voice was cold and Victor knew that Yuuri felt no pangs of guilt, suffered from no nagging conscience. He probably didn’t even have one. Victor’s blood ran cold. Was it right to get involved with someone like him?_

_“So I assume,” Yuuri said in an entirely different voice, as if someone else was speaking, “that you’re completely naked?”_

_“Yes,” Victor whispered._

_“Yes,” Yuuri repeated, impersonating Victor’s tone. “I’d ask for a photo,” he added in his normal tone of voice, "but I bet that you don’t know how to send photos with a phone. You should call up your assistant and get him to do it.”_

_“I-I’m not giving him photos of –”_

_“Yes, yes, the kid will probably be scarred for life. I get it.”_

_Yuuri went silent. Victor bit his lip to resist saying anything. He waited for Yuuri to say more, barely daring to breathe._

_An earlier thought returned to him. Would Yuuri get jealous?_

_“What if I_ did _find someone else?” Victor asked._

_“Some poor victim, you mean?”_

_“Well?” Victor asked, keeping his voice level._

_“Then I’ll stop calling you,” Yuuri said. “If you’re not interested –”_

_“I –” Victor interrupted and bit back the rest of the sentence._

_Yuuri waited. Victor tried to imagine the expression on his face as he did._

_“I want to see you again.”_

_“Well, you don’t want to hard enough, obviously.” Yuuri hung up._

He often hung up without saying goodbye. At first Victor thought Yuuri did it because he was offended by something he said, but Yuuri then told him that he hung up when he decided that the conversation was a waste of time.

He seemed to decide that almost each time they talked.

Victor sighed and opened his eyes. He barely knew Yuuri and, yet, he’d worked himself into something approaching love.

How did that happen?

“Up next: Yuuri Katsuki!”

Victor looked at the TV screen and saw Yuuri on the ice, listening to his coach. He said something with a sarcastic look on his face and waved to the audience. For just a second he made eye contact with the camera and Victor felt as if Yuuri was staring into his soul.

He wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore and Victor could finally see his black skating outfit, the top made mostly of lace covered in sparkles.

The music played and Yuuri skated his routine. Victor was completely ignorant of the terminology, but he couldn’t help thinking of a ballet as Yuuri went out on the ice. Yuuri had several complicated elements in his routine and didn’t fall or lose his balance, which Victor’s meagre understanding translated as Yuuri doing really well. The skater didn’t so much skate as fly over the ice as if he weighed nothing and Victor had an odd thought.

Maybe if he did what Yuuri wanted and visited him in Japan the skater would return the favour. Victor wasn’t used to giving, but wasn’t that how it was supposed to work in theory? Didn’t people give and then take all the time? He must’ve read that somewhere.

Yuuri rejoined his coach and the judges awarded him his scores. The commentator got really excited and announced to the world that Yuuri just beat the world record.

Victor poured himself another drink. “Here’s to you, Yuuri!” he toasted the image of Yuuri smiling from the screen and downed the glass. “I promise to win your heart before the end.”

On the screen the camera shifted over from Yuuri to the man sitting beside him. “It’s an incredible day for Yuuri Katsuki’s coach,” the commentator said. “This is the sixth time Yuuri Katsuki has broken the world record, making him the biggest record breaker among all of the students of coach Yakov Feltsman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to play musical chairs with the characters.


	3. A Birthday Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to tonight’s round of which of my fics will I update today? And since you’re here, you already know the answer.  
> (Note to self: don't ever have 4 ongoing fics ever again.)

Now that the Christmas party was over Victor could concentrate on his birthday plans. This year, he decided, he deserved a treat. He was going to treat himself to a date with Japan’s top figure skater: Yuuri Katsuki. He focused on that thought and not at all on the thought that he was locked in a battle he probably couldn’t win.

And so he thought of the treat as he sat in an airport lounge, flipping through a newspaper and waiting for his flight. He thought of it again as he tucked into his meal while flying business class from New York to Tokyo. And again right before he fell asleep on his flight. The thought was there while he waited for the car Yuri had arranged to come pick him up. It was also the one to blame when he arrived at the hotel Yuri had booked for him and, instead of checking in, turned around and walked back out.

Thirty minutes later the thought evaporated and he had to admit to himself that he had no idea where he was going, or what the plan was.

He’d wanted to surprise Yuuri by appearing at his doorstep, but he missed the important first step of finding out where the skater lived.

There was nothing for it, but to admit defeat yet again.

Victor sighed and called Yuuri.

“Hello, Princess! And what can Japan’s top figure skater do for you?”

“I-I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “In Tokyo, I mean. I got lost.” He waited for the insults that would follow.

Yuuri burst out laughing. “Alright, Princess, hang tight. I’ll rescue you from the dragon.”

He tried to explain where he was, looking around him for some sort of landmarks and accepted Yuuri’s laughter without any comment. He waited patiently for Yuuri to appear on his motorcycle and take him away.

Too late he remembered that Yuuri was competing that day and realized that he wasn’t going to drop everything and pick him up.

He sighed. So much for making a surprise appearance!

 

“I’m not your mother,” Yuuri said quietly and dialed Victor’s assistant. “Listen, kid– okay, the details of your age really don’t interest me.”

Yakov came up to him and opened his mouth. He looked ready to go into full out rant mode.

Yuuri held up his hand. “Your boss just got himself lost like a three-year-old in a store. You figure it out,” he hung up and smirked at Yakov. “I think the circus is missing a clown.”

“Yuuri,” Yakov began, “it’s almost your turn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. And before you get yourself all worked up, I’m not about to run off after him.”

 

Yuuri went out on the ice and delivered his usual amazing performance that was too good for the average onlooker. He didn’t break a world record this time, which was fine by him, since breaking one world record per competition was too much excitement for the audience. When he finished they rewarded him with cheers and applause, which were interrupted abruptly by exclamations of surprise.

Yuuri turned to see what all the commotion was about and his mouth spread into a smile.

_His Royal Highness has arrived and would like to congratulate everyone on what a good job they’re doing!_

Victor stood like an honoured guest and waved in a way that was all too reminiscent of royalty.

Yuuri skated to the kiss and cry while the audience speculated why the editor of _Runway_ was attending a skating event.

 _The next catwalk will be on the ice, obviously_ , Yuuri thought with a sarcastic smile.

He went on as normal and waited for his scores with Yakov, as if there wasn’t a person coming towards him through the crowd.

 _He shouldn’t even be in here and yet… He must’ve bossed them around till they did everything for him_.

“Is that…?” Yakov asked quietly.

“Yes,” Yuuri said.

“…and Yuuri Katsuki is in first place!” the commentator exclaimed

“Yuuri!” Victor shouted, finally getting within earshot of the kiss and cry.

The champion stood up and marched over to him. “I see you made it here safe and sound, Princess.”

“Yuuri, that was incredible! I’ve never seen –”

“Yes, yes, super impressive in person, not the same as on TV. ‘Oh, Yuuri, how amazing! I didn’t know!’” He mocked Victor’s tone. “Really? Didn’t you do any research before interviewing – oh no, you didn’t. I forgot.”

Victor straightened up. “I’m here for my date.”

“Then you’ll have to wait until after the exhibition program.”

“What is –” Victor began.

“Google it,” Yuuri told him, turned around and walked off.

 

Yuuri took Victor on his bike afterwards, heading for the shadiest part of the city, or so it seemed to Victor, even though he kept telling himself it couldn’t possibly be the case. They drove up to a small restaurant with a sign that was missing half of its letters and Yuuri parked the motorcycle.

Victor remembered Yuuri’s description of a date and said nothing. He was determined to show Yuuri he could take anything the boy threw at him.

Yuuri stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled into the restaurant casually, as if he was just going down the street and not walking into a place that probably had dirty cutlery. Victor straightened his clothes and followed him in.

It was small and the stench of food (mostly some sort of spice) made Victor’s head spin. He already knew it wouldn’t be easy to get it out of his clothes later. A guy stood in a corner and pretended to mop the floor, while really just pushing dirty water around. There was only one customer in the place. He sat in a corner and ate as if the whole world had done something unforgivable.

Yuuri headed straight for one of the tables and dropped into a chair. Victor, annoyed by this breach of etiquette – of there being no one to greet them and assign them a table, took the seat on the other side.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Is there a menu?”

Yuuri nodded at one of the walls where someone had listed all of the foods, presumably, in marker, as well as the prices.

“I can’t read Japanese,” Victor admitted.

Yuuri read the list aloud. Victor remained as in the dark about the items on the menu as he’d been before, only now he also felt really ignorant.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” he said.

“Suit yourself,” Yuuri shrugged.

A man ran up to them, all out of breath. He was short and had the creepiest smile Victor had ever seen.

Yuuri had a long conversation in Japanese with him, after which the man bowed and left. He returned several minutes later with a candle he put on the table. He eyed Victor with an even wider and, and surely this must have been impossible, an even creepier smile.

Victor suppressed the urge to shudder and settled for nodding instead.

“What did you say to him?” he asked as the man left.

“I told him that you’re trying to seduce me,” Yuuri said giving Victor an impassive stare.

The editor considered his words carefully. “I suppose I am.”

“You’re calmer today,” Yuuri noted. “Did you take calming pills, or something?”

 _Does it bother you?_ Victor collected himself. “It’s my birthday today.” _I’m getting too old to be as flustered as a schoolgirl each time you talk to me. Besides, you have no idea how much mental preparation I went through before leaving New York._

“Really? Should I expect to see you in your birthday suit, then?”

“I brought an expensive suit,” Victor admitted, “in case you took me somewhere nice, but I suppose I won’t even get a chance to unpack it from the suitcase.”

“Birthday. Suit,” Yuuri repeated slowly. “ _Not_ the suit you will wear for your birthday. Those are two different things.” He laughed. “I suppose, in a way, they could be the same thing.”

Victor had to admit he had no idea what Yuuri was talking about. He made a mental note to look it up later.

Yuuri leaned forward across the table. “So what is this really about?”

“You invited me on a date,” Victor answered, ready for this one. “Are you backing out now?”

“Backing out? I don’t back out of anything!”

“Good. Then I’ll take you up on the offer of sex as well,” Victor added. Had it all just been bravado, or had Yuuri actually meant it?

“And I suppose you ran across half the world expecting I would take you to one of those little cafes with ice cream or some other nonsense?” Yuuri asked, his eyes on Victor’s face and his face not showing a single hint of any kind of emotion.

“I was hoping for something better than this,” Victor said, “but you did warn me, so I’m not surprised.” He returned Yuuri’s calm stare.

“Are all rich bastards as masochistic as you, or are you the exception?”

“You seem to like it,” Victor countered.

The creepy man arrived with their food, but Yuuri didn’t use this interruption as an excuse to finish their conversation. He wasn’t willing to yield an inch and that excited Victor for some reason.

“I suppose you will want me to use handcuffs, or ropes, or something like that?”

Victor had an odd mental image at those words and all the blood rushed to his face. “No,” he managed to say in a more or less steady voice.

Yuuri smirked and leaned back in his seat.

The waiter left.

Victor stared down at his plate. It was made of plastic and the food the waiter had dropped off for him was wrapped in tin foil.

“Am I expected to eat this?”

“You can go hungry,” Yuuri offered and unwrapped the tin foil. The contents didn’t look any more appetizing once unwrapped.

Victor grimaced. “You’re not seriously going to eat that, are you?”

“Or maybe,” Yuuri said, returning to their earlier conversation topic, “you’re more into what some call recreational scolding.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Victor admitted without thinking. “I mean, the food,” he corrected himself hastily. “What if I have allergies, or if we get food poisoning from it?”

“Then we’ll just have to deal with it.”

Victor watched Yuuri eat it and came to a decision. “I’m not going to eat it.”

Yuuri shrugged.

He needed to do something that would really throw Yuuri off. Victor got up, walked around the table and sat down in Yuuri’s lap.

“You’re an idiot,” Yuuri said.

“Why? I thought I’m supposed to seduce you.”

“I’ll show you why.” Yuuri took Victor’s face in his hands and kissed him.

_Oh God! That whatever-it-is tastes as bad as it looks!_

But pulling away now would be the same as admitting defeat and he wasn’t going to back down no matter what.

So he went on until Yuuri released him. “You are one odd man,” Yuuri whispered, resting his forehead against Victor’s.

“Maybe I should thank you for your choice of location,” Victor said. “This way there are no witnesses.”

“Are you thinking of knifing me, in revenge for how bad the food is?” Yuuri asked.

“You’ll have to wait to find out,” Victor whispered and leaned in for another kiss.

 _No, no, forget it. I can’t deal with that taste again._ He kept his face several inches away, daring Yuuri to come closer.

Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

The door flew open and a large rowdy group burst in, singing at the tops of their voices and shouting words that were probably obscenities. They took charge of several tables and then hit the tabletops with their hands, demanding attention. Victor released Yuuri and stared at them in surprise.

One of them stopped in front of their table and said something to Yuuri.

Yuuri’s answer was accompanied by a smirk and everyone burst out laughing.

Victor willed his smile to remain on his face. “What did he say?” he asked, certain that it was a joke at his expense.

“Don’t you know it’s bad manners to play with your food?” Yuuri translated.

“What does he know about table manners?” Victor asked, crossing his arms over his chest and giving the man a haughty look as if he was sitting in a chair and not in someone’s lap.

“That’s what I said.” Yuuri laughed.

The newcomers joined in and Victor allowed himself a quiet laugh. _Alright, I’ve had enough_.

“Take me somewhere fancy,” he told Yuuri, "or are you too poor for that?”

Yuuri motioned for Victor to get off his lap and rose to his feet. He threw some money on the table and said something that made everyone except for Victor laugh again. They all turned to stare at Victor and made all kinds of noises.

Victor felt as if he was at the zoo, but still the polite smile remained on his face.

Someone shouted something and Yuuri nodded at them. He looked into Victor’s eyes and said, “I will,” in English.

Victor walked out of the restaurant in as dignified a way as he could. He didn’t need a translation this time. He stood by the bike with his hands in his pockets, pretending he was thinking about something else. His coat alone was probably worth more than that dirty place.

Yuuri pulled him close. “Are you going to have an angry tantrum, Princess?”

“No. But I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth.”

“Of course,” Yuuri nodded.

There was that sarcastic smile on his face as he climbed onto the bike.

They rode off into a part of the city that looked even less pleasant than the one they’d left. The buildings looked like any minute they would fall apart. People lurked in the shadows, making Victor think of movies about gangsters. He clung on, hoping Yuuri was headed for somewhere nicer.

“You really are impatient for someone who took more than two weeks to get here.”

Victor bit back the protest that rose to his lips. “I’m very impatient,” he agreed. “How long will you make me wait?”

“Two weeks,” Yuuri said without stopping to think.

_He’s kidding, right? He’s just messing with me._

Yuuri drove up to one of the apartment buildings and parked inside what looked like an abandoned garage.

Victor followed him up the stairs of an apartment building that looked abandoned and ready for demolition. It smelled of all sorts of domestic animals as well as dust.

Yuuri stopped partway up and pulled a key out of his pocket. He swung the door open and motioned Victor in with a sarcastic smile on his lips.

“Y-you live here?” Victor asked, stepping inside. There were only three rooms: what looked like a pathetic attempt at a kitchen, a living room that doubled as a bedroom and a small bathroom. Victor’s closet was bigger than the entire apartment.

Yuuri watched Victor’s face. “Ah, well, yeah, I have money, but I don’t really need much more than the bare minimum. And I kind of like this area.” He dropped into the only chair in the apartment and patted his knees.

Victor sat down sideways on Yuuri’s lap.

Yuuri slid a hand over Victor’s cheek. “Oh, but you wanted me to brush my teeth before I kiss you again? Or does that only apply if I kiss you on the mouth?”

The blood rushed to Victor’s face, but his expression was calm. He’d really never met someone like Yuuri before. “I have breath mints,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

“Amazing,” Yuuri breathed out. “In exchange, I’ll teach you what a birthday suit is, my most stylish man on the planet.”


	4. Really Disappointed

Victor had had lovers before. Most of them were keen to get into his pants and it showed. Some of them tried to use him for personal gain.

Yuuri, on the other hand, acted like it was all a long game of dare. Victor couldn’t help feeling as if they were circling each other in dangerous waters the whole time. He wasn’t sure what the stakes in the game were, apart from a hurt pride, but it was a game Victor decided he wanted to play.

He got up from Yuuri’s lap. Yuuri reclined in his chair, as if curious to see what the editor would do next. He folded his arms behind his head and smirked.

 _How long will we play this game?_ Victor wondered.

“Will you undress me?” Yuuri asked, but didn’t even bother getting up.

“I was rather counting on the opposite.”

“What? You need someone to dress and undress you? A true princess, through and through!” The smirk on his face dared Victor to do something outrageous, pushing him on.

Victor thought back to his previous lovers and the way they’d obeyed his every whim. He’d spent a fun week with a pole dancer once who would always get really anxious. He’d taught Victor a few tricks.

His coat was an exclusive piece, made just for him. He unbuttoned it slowly and then let it slide from his shoulders.

“Do you have a closet?”

Yuuri stood up, took the coat from Victor’s hands and dropped it on the floor.

Victor fought down the urge to pick it up. He opted for crossing his arms over his chest instead.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. He unzipped his leather jacket, keeping his eyes fixed on Victor. He pulled it off and tossed it at Victor who caught it and dropped it on top of his coat.

For generations humanity considered pride a sin. Victor, however, didn’t. He’d long ago decided he was better than most people and fell into looking down on others without realizing he was doing it.

 _I am the editor of_ Runway _. I am rich and good-looking. I am what some call ‘a good catch’. So I might be a little spoiled, but I deserve it. My decisions affect the lives of many people. He’s just a skater, even if does radiate more sexual appeal than anyone I’ve ever met (and that’s saying something). Who cares how many medals he’s won?_

He’d dated a few models. Some of them worked for _Fantastic Man_ , the men’s fashion magazine that Victor considered _Runway’s_ rival. None of those models measured up to Yuuri.

There was something untamed about him, something unbreakable and Victor wondered how far he could be pushed. And then wondered if it was something he was going to try.

He’d read up on Yuuri before coming. The Internet was suspiciously silent on the subject of his love life and he wondered what that meant.

He walked towards Yuuri, stepping around his coat. He put one hand on Yuuri’s chest and pushed him against the wall. He kissed the boy’s neck, pouring out all his feelings.

“Undress me,” Yuuri repeated and his tone was calm, almost cold.

Victor slid his hand down, over the boy’s stomach. He paused at Yuuri’s waist, waiting for Yuuri to get flustered, but his expression didn’t change.

“We’re still playing, aren’t we?”

Victor’s hand all but dropped into Yuuri’s pants. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear, getting all excited himself.

Yuuri looked into his eyes. It was hard to keep eye contact with him: the force of his personality was concentrated in that stare. “Two weeks you make me wait,” he said quietly. “What makes you think I can’t wait longer? But, maybe, you’ll be a big disappointment, in which case, go on – drag it out. The chase is always more fun than the capture.”

Yuuri’s body was responding to Victor’s touch, but his expression didn’t change.

“Tell me,” Victor whispered into his ear, “are you a virgin?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. I’m just surprised you’ve never had anyone before.”

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for someone who was enough of a bastard.” Yuuri had a frightening smile on his face. “Are you flattered?”

“A little,” Victor admitted. He slid his hand back up to Yuuri’s stomach where his second hand joined it. Both hands caught the bottom of Yuuri’s shirt and pulled it off.

Yuuri grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. The taste of that horrible food was still there, but Victor suddenly found he didn’t mind it so much.

His hands trailed back down again and fiddled with the zipper on Yuuri’s pants. It got stuck near the top.

Yuuri pulled his mouth away from Victor’s and laughed. “Having trouble with clothes, editor?”

Victor said nothing. He won the battle with the zipper and Yuuri’s pants joined the rest of the clothes on the floor.

“Come on!” Yuuri whispered, giving away his impatience for the first time that evening.

Victor kissed Yuuri again to hide the triumphant smile on his own face. “Yuuri,” he whispered between kisses.

Yuuri pulled him closer. “Your stupid belt is digging into my stomach,” he hissed. “Are you planning to keep it on for the rest of the evening?”

“I might,” Victor teased.

And Yuuri pushed back. Suddenly Victor found he was the one caught between a person and a wall. It wasn’t comfortable at all, even if the person was Yuuri.

Yuuri cursed everything in existence, swearwords tumbling from his lips one after the next, as if he wasn’t really paying attention to his own words, as he undid the buttons of Victor’s shirt and then tossed it aside. The belt got even more curses directed at it.

“Turns out you’re really impatient,” Victor said with a smirk.

“Impatient? I’ll show you impatient!” Yuuri growled.

All of Victor’s cool and self-control went out the window at the way those words were said. He was blushing deeply. Yuuri didn’t seem to notice this, his attention focused on tossing aside Victor’s belt and getting his pants out of his way.

“I knew you’d have some sort of kinky underwear,” he declared once he finished. “But I think I want a look from a different angle.” He pushed Victor onto the bed and climbed over him.

He contemplated Victor’s backside in silence for several minutes.

“Sit still and I’ll pull the damn thing off.” He reached for it with his hands and then laughed.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing. Stop getting so excited!” He traced the shape out with his fingers. “I was just thinking that it doesn’t look very comfortable. You whined about everything and yet you’re wearing a thong!”

“It’s not that uncomfortable,” Victor said defensively. He buried his face in the pillow and clenched his fists, refusing to make a single sound as Yuuri took his time in pulling it off. Yuuri’s fingers scrambled around, trying to get a hold of the underwear, and Victor _knew_ that Yuuri was deliberately making it seem harder than it was. Yuuri was determined to embarrass him. Victor, on the other hand, was determined not to give Yuuri the satisfaction of this victory.

“We’re going all wrong about this, aren’t we?” Yuuri asked, once he’d finally pulled the underwear off.

“W-What do you mean?” Victor asked and cursed himself for how flustered he sounded.

“Oh just that you might have all kinds of diseases and here I am about entrust myself to you,” Yuuri answered.

It took all of his self-control not to get defensive at this. He opted for saying nothing.

“Although, I’ve already got the self-centred bastard disease,” Yuuri said and chuckled, “so there’s that one off the list.”

“I… uh… I didn’t bring anything,” Victor admitted.

“I’ll have to stick to using my mouth, then.” Yuuri turned Victor over and smirked.

Any remnants of self-control that Victor had left over by this point evaporated at the sight of that smirk. “Y-you don’t have anything?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“Nope.”

Was Yuuri messing with him again? He wanted to pull himself up, but Yuuri pinned him down by the shoulders.

“Don’t move.”

Victor tried to relax. He closed his eyes to block out the sight of that face and realized just how disappointed he was.

Yuuri chuckled and started with Victor’s neck. Victor had done something similar many times before, but – oddly enough – this was his first time on the receiving end. The realization surprised him.

What was it about Yuuri’s kisses that made him feel as if they were burning his skin? Was that how his previous lovers felt when he’d done the same?

Yuuri’s hands gripped Victor and moved as his mouth made its progress.

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped. He repeated the skater’s name over and over again. “Let’s… let’s go to my hotel room after this,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. “The people there… they’ll get us what we need.”

The skater sat up and laughed. “Only if I get to ask the receptionist myself.”

“Yuuri!” Victor protested.

“Or we can just stay as we are. I’m feeling too lazy to go anywhere right now. Unlike you I didn’t spend all day lounging about with people waiting on my every whim.” He lay down next to Victor and closed his eyes.

“You expect me to sleep on this? I’m going to have bruises for a week!” Victor shifted around, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing.

“You want to return to your bed in your five-star hotel, I suppose?”

 _Of course I do!_ “You’re welcome to join me. I promise the bed won’t make such a racket.”

“That’s half the fun. You let the neighbours know –”

Victor sat up. “No, I think I’d rather not.”

“If it bothers you so much, then go home, Princess. Go back to your fancy hotel and fly home. Your flight is tomorrow, right?” Yuuri opened his eyes and gave Victor a very serious look.

“No, I… I planned to stay for a week,” Victor admitted and cursed himself. He knew what he was signing up for when he ran halfway across the world for this date.

“A week, huh?” Yuuri grabbed Victor and pulled him down onto the bed. He brought him close enough to whisper right into his ear and for a moment Victor thought he sounded flattered. “Well, maybe we can make something of that, after all.”

Victor waited for Yuuri to say something else, but it was obvious that the skater felt that there was no more to be said. “We’ll go tomorrow, then.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything to that and Victor took it as Yuuri agreeing.

 

Victor awoke next to Yuuri. He was in an old apartment building that looked ready to fall apart. It was hot and sticky and smelled like grease. He lay on a lumpy mattress that was less comfortable than a stone slab. He stared at Yuuri’s sleeping face and wondered how he, the most stylish man, ended up in a place like this with a person like Yuuri. He slid his fingers over Yuuri’s face and through his hair and sighed.

Outside the sun was rising. Its rays were falling in through the blinds in the window, casting stripes of shadows on the opposite wall.

_I won’t lose. I refuse to lose to you. You’ll be the one chasing me before the end._

 

When Yuuri awoke he lay on his side, staring at Victor without saying a word. Victor trembled under the intensity of that stare.

“Good morning.” He said and kept his voice as steady as possible. He sat up, suppressing the urge to wince as the metal lumps someone hid in the mattress dug into his backside. He reclined against the wall and pretended he was sitting at his desk.

Yuuri propped his head up with his arm. “Enjoying yourself?”

“No, actually, as dates go this is really mediocre.” He’d rehearsed what he would say while waiting for Yuuri to wake up. “You haven’t kept your promise and I’m really bored too.”

Yuuri sat up as if the word had offended him. “Bored?”

“Yes: bored.” He crossed his arms and frowned like he usually did when someone at _Runway_ did a mediocre job. “You promised hot sex and instead I’ve been bored to the point of falling asleep.”

Yuuri laughed darkly. “If it’s excitement you want, I’ll show you excitement!” He got up and went to take a shower.

Victor ran his hands over his hair. He had nothing to style it with. The thought was enough to drive him insane. He’d have to make do with what he had. He sighed heavily.

 

They left the apartment building together and took the bike back to the fashionable part of the city. Yuuri delighted in terrifying both other drivers as well as casual pedestrians. Once he went right over a car. Victor clung on, certain that he was about to die. His life flashed before his eyes and he tried not to think how unsatisfactory it had been.

Yuuri was mad and Victor soon discovered that his madness was contagious.

“Do that again!” he exclaimed after a sharp turn and wondered where that had come from.

The skater merely laughed at this.

They went around the city at least twice before Yuuri drove up to a restaurant and parked his bike.

This time it was a very high-end place.

Victor, feeling suddenly back in his element, led the way in and talked to the maître d’ as if he’d seen him before. Everything was going well at first. Victor was treated with the respect he’d come to expect to get everywhere. It seemed like everyone at the restaurant was falling over themselves to greet him. But after they took their places at their table everything started to go downhill. Victor waited for 30 minutes for the waiter to come and take their order, then 30 minutes while the waiter went to fetch their drinks. The waiting game continued throughout the meal until Victor called a waiter over and said:

“Send your manager here.”

The manager arrived and Victor gave him the biggest dressing-down of his life. He didn’t swear and used very few insults, but he managed to suggest that the manager was the most incompetent man on the planet, that Victor eating at that particular restaurant was an honour he didn’t deserve and that everything in the restaurant was terrible and didn’t deserve Victor’s money.

They walked out without paying a single yen and with a solemn oath from the manager to improve in the future.

Yuuri had an amused smile on his face. “I think it’s time to go to the hotel.”

 

There was a professional-looking lady at the reception desk. She was young and Yuuri was willing to bet that she hadn’t been at the job for long.

He marched over straight to her. “Good evening,” he said in his talking-to-the-press voice, leaning against her desk. “Mr. Nikiforov would like to check into his room.”

As it turned out, all of Victor’s luggage was dropped off at the hotel, but he’d never bothered to check in.

“Yes, of course,” she said and typed away at her computer. “And are you staying with him?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Yuuri admitted. “You see,” and here he put on a mock serious voice that wasn’t meant to fool anyone, “we’d like to have sex, but –”

“But you haven’t made the necessary preparations?” she cut in smoothly.

_Oh, well done! 9 out of 10 and only because I would’ve preferred a different word to preparations._

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him, as if he’d just told her that he was afraid to miss his early morning flight, “we always have the necessities. It happens all the time,” she nodded in understanding.

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open, but he caught himself just in time and smirked instead. _I’ll bet it does! The rich will buy all the pleasures that they can!_ “And you can bill it to the room.”

“It’s complimentary for our guests,” she countered.

 _That’s what I call a 5-star hotel!_ He smiled politely this time. “Of course.”

“Are you staying as well?” she asked again.

 _I like you_ , Yuuri thought. _Holy crap! I_ really _like you._ “I think I will, after all.” He turned to give Victor an up and down look. “I might as well try it out.”

Victor gave Yuuri a shocked look.

Yuuri turned back around to the receptionist. She looked entirely unfazed by this. “What brand would you like?” she asked.

 _Watch and learn, Victor. She’s got this down better than you._ “I’ll leave the choice entirely up to you,” he said. Then he added, “You know, if I didn’t already have plans, I would’ve invited you out for a drink.”

She gave him an impassive stare. “And do you think I would accept, Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Touché.” He stepped back and gave a mock bow.

“Your room keys,” she said and placed two keys on the desk in front of her.

Yuuri swept them up. “Thank you.” He headed for the elevator, not even bothering to check if Victor was following him.

 

Victor stepped into the elevator after Yuuri and tried to get his thoughts in order. What could he say about that whole exchange with the receptionist?

They arrived at their floor and walked out without another word.

He watched Yuuri open the door with his key, his eyes drawn to the skater’s hands.

Yuuri whistled. “Definitely living up to the five stars.”

 _It looks just like every other hotel I’ve stayed at,_ Victor thought.

“Excuse me.” They turned around and saw one of the hotel staff with a box in his hands. “I have a delivery for your room.”

Yuuri took the box from his hands. “Don’t forget the tip,” he said to Victor and headed for the bedroom.

Victor pulled some notes out of his wallet without even checking what they were, handed them to the man at the door and slammed the door in his face.

He straightened his jacket, adjusted his hair and headed into the bedroom.

Yuuri caught him and trapped him against the wall as soon as he walked through the doorway. “Now, where were we?”


	5. Dancing

A dance between two people who barely know each other generally starts off with both parties measuring each other up and trying to get a feel for each other’s abilities. Yuuri was past that stage. He was at the stage when the choreography went out of control and he smugly went through the moves.

He pulled Victor towards him, turned him around and slid his hands over the editor’s stomach. “Oh yes,” he whispered into his ear, “I remember now.”

Victor gasped as Yuuri slipped a hand down into his pants.

“Now that I have everything I need I only have one question,” Yuuri said.

“Y-yes?”

“Do you think you’re ready?” There was that hint of sarcasm in his voice again.

“Yes…” Victor whispered.

Yuuri chuckled. “That will do.”

He slid his hands back up to Victor’s chest. Victor tried to control his breathing as Yuuri undid the buttons. It took him more time unbuttoning his shirt this way, since he couldn’t see what he was doing and several times his fingers hunted around for the next button.

Victor was gasping for breath by the time Yuuri got to the last button. Victor couldn’t help thinking how lucky it was that he hadn’t buttoned up his jacket. There was no way he could live through a second unbuttoning like this one.

The skater stepped back and pulled the editor’s jacket off his shoulders. Then he pulled his shirt off.

Victor didn’t turn around, waiting for Yuuri to do whatever it was he meant to do next.

“You’re no fun,” Yuuri said quietly. “If people fought in wars the way you act, there wouldn’t be any wars at all. As soon as they saw an army attack they would fold their weapons and open the city gates.”

Victor turned around to face him. “Speaking of opening city gates…”

He stepped towards Yuuri. The skater had that irritating smile on his face to show that he found Victor slightly amusing. It was really getting on his nerves now. How many people had he, Victor, slept with? How many of them had he seduced until they submitted willingly? How could he allow Yuuri to still fight back?

He pushed Yuuri against the wall, unzipped his pants and pulled them down.

“I’ve got the editor of a fashion magazine on his knees in front of me, isn’t that nice?” Yuuri said with a note of boredom in his voice. “I wish I’d asked that girl what her name was!”

_Ah hell!_ He pulled Yuuri’s underwear off.

Yuuri remained silent for a while and just as Victor expected him to moan his name he said, “Well, isn’t this disappointing? You were right, this is really boring.”

Victor pulled away and stood up. “What?”

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Victor trapped him against the wall.

“You don’t seriously think you can keep me in here against my will?”

Victor tried to smile. “Are you scared? Is that what it is?”

“I told you: I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then why do you keep running off?” Victor challenged.

Yuuri still had that irritating smile on his face. He didn’t say anything and Victor wondered how long he could keep himself under control before he did something foolish.

_I’ve already done something foolish,_ he remembered. And it was too late to play the cool, uninterested party. Or was it?

He stepped away. Someone like Yuuri would only fight back. “You’re right,” he said, “I can’t keep you in here against your will and I’m not going to, anyway.” He shrugged. “After going to your disgusting apartment what I really need is a shower.”

He unbuckled his belt and pulled off his pants. He folded them carefully over the back of a chair as if Yuuri wasn’t there.

Yuuri caught his hands before he could pull his underwear off. “I think I’d rather do that myself.”

_It’s just a mad race with you_ , Victor thought. _If I stop to catch my breath, I will be left behind. But how can I possibly keep up with you? Nothing impresses you. Except that receptionist._

“I figured it out!” Victor said, snapping his fingers. “I know why you keep stalling for time.”

There was an odd look on Yuuri’s face. “Why?”

“Because you don’t know how to do it, do you? There’s nothing shameful in that. I’m perfectly happy to demonstrate –”

“Shut up.” Yuuri pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him. “I know what I’m doing.”

Victor raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that?”

Yuuri pulled his own shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. “Try me.”

 

Yuuri knew that Victor was more experienced than him, but he was damned if he was going to let Victor be on top. Besides, it was easy: all it took was climbing on top of him and then aligning the right parts of his anatomy to Victor’s and the rest was easy. If idiots could do it, then so could he. That was the theory, anyway.

Of course he couldn’t do it all right away. That was where the box came in. He sat on Victor’s legs as he opened it.

And nearly laughed. They’d managed to package everything in a way that reminded him of the standard kit handed out on flights. Here is your blanket, here are the wet towels. He chuckled, forgetting himself.

There was a note inside. He pulled it out, wondering if the receptionist had found the time to slip it in, but discovered to his disappointment that it was just a standard typed up note.

_By using these products you agree to –_

“Are you really sure you know what you’re doing? It’s not too late to admit –” Victor spoke up. _God, he’s so impatient!_

“I just got distracted by this legal contract.”

Victor wiggled from under him and sat up. “What?”

Yuuri held it out to him. “They don’t accept any responsibility if either of us catches something or,” he laughed, “gets pregnant afterwards. I’d like to see how they think that could happen.”

“It’s for –”

“Yes, I know,” Yuuri interrupted. “Well, do you trust them?”

He watched Victor try to form some sort of response and smirked.

“I do,” Victor said eventually and leaned forward to kiss Yuuri.

“Very funny,” Yuuri grumbled, pulling away. “Will you put it on, or should I do that for you?”

 

It was, without a doubt, the oddest experience in Victor’s life (and that included the poisoned dinner with the waiter that Yuuri shot).

Yuuri – the world’s top figure skater, he reminded himself – was all over him. He was determined to make Victor lose and submit and this, just this once, Victor was willing to do. Yuuri let his hands roam, trying to embarrass Victor and the editor felt like he was the one who was the winner. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun.

Heck, even the pole dancer wasn’t this good with his hands.

So he let Yuuri think he’d won, as he gasped out the boy’s name in a weak voice and begged Yuuri to keep going. And he smiled inwardly at the dirty things Yuuri whispered to him. There was one battle he could win easily: Yuuri was far too inexperienced to know what should be said.

Afterwards they lay in bed completely naked next to each other. Victor remained on his stomach while Yuuri reclined on his back. He picked up Victor’s underwear and held it up.

“Can you wear something kinkier next time?” Was that sarcasm in Yuuri’s voice or was he serious? It was always so hard to tell with him.

Victor looked at him. “Next time? Who said anything about next time?”

“I did,” Yuuri countered. “I want something I can play with.”

“This wasn’t enough?” Victor asked, remembering the feel of Yuuri’s fingers as they traced out the straps.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Victor closed his eyes and rested his head on his arms. “I’ll think about it.”

After a while he opened his eyes and stared at Yuuri.

The skater lay with his hands folded under his head, his hair all dishevelled. There was an odd look on his face and Victor wondered what he was thinking about.

And then he had a troubling thought: Yuuri said ‘next time’, but how much longer would he want to keep up their relationship for? If Victor was right and Yuuri was there for a challenge, he’d have to think of a challenge to give him.

He climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. They still had the second half of the day. He took his time showering, fixing his hair and getting dressed. He pretended not to notice the way Yuuri’s eyes followed him around the room.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said, stopping in front of Yuuri.

Yuuri rose slowly with a mocking smile on his lips. “What do you have in mind, Princess?”

“I was thinking we could go sightseeing for a while, or we can go around the city on your bike. I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

“And you’re not worried it will mess up your hair?” Yuuri asked.

“No.”

Normally, after sleeping with someone for the first time Victor would charm them into a return for a second time (if he liked the first time, of course) usually this would consist of him taking them out somewhere sweet for a date and some flirting.

Yuuri was a tough case. He didn’t react at all to flirting. If he flirted in return, it was only because he saw it as a way to fight back.

_What do you want?_ Victor wondered while he waited for Yuuri. _I want to find a way to keep you coming back for more. But if you’re in it only for the challenge, then I’m afraid I already lost._

Maybe – and here was an odd thought – he could talk to that receptionist and get some advice from her. He made a mental note to ask his assistant to get her number.

But who said he had to use the same weapons as his opponent? After all, he had one weapon at his fingertips that no one had ever resisted: his charm. Yuuri was bound to give in eventually.

When they came down to the lobby the receptionist was still there. Yuuri stopped by the desk, dropping the keys off with a smile. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Is the room to your satisfaction, then?”

“Not just the room.” He smirked and, before Victor knew it, Yuuri struck up a conversation about the lubrication properties of liquids.

Victor blushed and looked at the receptionist, wondering if he should apologize for Yuuri.

She wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest and went on as if they were discussing Japan’s economy or any other equally serious topic.

The editor tried to smile politely and act as if it was a perfectly normal conversation topic. It would’ve probably helped if he could think of something to add, but his brain was completely blank.

Someone walked up to the reception desk to check in and Victor used this chance to pull Yuuri away.

“Yuuri, what are you doing?”

“I’m having my rematch,” Yuuri answered simply.

“Rematch?”

Yuuri sighed and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.” He waved at the receptionist and left with Victor at his side.

Suddenly Victor had an idea. “Take me dancing,” he said.

Yuuri smirked and Victor braced himself for something terrible. The skater was like a malicious fairy or genie that granted your wish, but not in the way you intended.

“But not the boring kind of dancing,” Victor added.

Yuuri laughed. “Oh, it won’t be boring. I can promise you that.”

_And now he really will take me somewhere terrible._ He tried to imagine just how bad it could get and regretted it.

 

Yuuri wasn’t stupid. He could see what Victor was doing. He was enjoying himself, acting like he was giving in and surrendering while in reality he was actually relishing every moment, damn him!

There was only one thing to do now. _I’m not going to cater to your every whim. As fun as this is, I don’t want to play anymore. I already know I won, so what’s the point in going on?_

But a part of him kept egging him on. _Come on, it will be fun_ , the mad part of his brain insisted. _Mess with him. You can really ruffle his feathers. Look at his face: he’s terrified. He asked you out for a dance and now he’s trembling in fear of what you’ll do._

There was a club with a very bad reputation that he dropped in on when he was in the mood to tolerate a large screaming mass of people jumping up and down like mad to horrible music, but, watching Victor’s face, he suspected that was exactly what the editor expected.

_I’ll have to think of something else._

He suggested they walk so he could search for inspiration. To his surprise, Victor agreed.

His mind kept wandering back to his rematch. He was determined to make that girl blush no matter what. And he still hadn’t asked for her name!

Yuuri was so lost in thought that when Victor suddenly grabbed him by the arms and pulled him close he was caught completely off guard. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Dancing,” came the reply.

And then Yuuri became aware of the music. There was a street musician sitting outside. A small crowd gathered around to watch him play. Victor dragged him into what turned out to be a tango and the crowd grew bigger.

They went through the steps in time to the music, ending up in perfect synch with each other. Victor spun Yuuri around and smiled. Yuuri gripped Victor by the hands and walked forward, determined to not let Victor lead.

It was ridiculous. There they were putting on a show for the crowd (what else could anyone really call it?), moving slowly as if one of them was made out of glass. Each movement of the arm or leg came out exaggerated this way.

_I can’t believe I let him drag me into something so sappy!_ Yuuri thought, but kept going.

Victor looked like he was really enjoying himself, but instead of doing so with an air of triumph, there was an innocence about it.

_He’s like a kid enjoying a carnival ride!_

“Do you think we can get him to play more when this song ends?” Victor whispered into his ear.

“I’m sure he’ll play anything for a paying tourist.” _Why are you whispering? Why am_ I _whispering?_

Victor was closer now, one of his hands resting on Yuuri’s back. “Where did you learn how to tango?” he asked.

“I’m a figure skater, I can dance anything,” Yuuri answered. It wasn’t strictly true, but his coach had challenged him with programs inspired by many different dancing styles. Tango hadn’t been one of them so he was improvising now.

The music ended and Yuuri pulled Victor closer. “After the next dance, let’s go to my apartment.”

Victor wrinkled his nose. “I’m not going back there again!”

“You really bought that story, didn’t you?” Yuuri laughed. “Don’t worry, Princess, I have a place that I think will suit you perfectly. In fact, it’s only two blocks away from your hotel.”

An hour later Victor was admiring the view from the window in Yuuri’s bedroom as Yuuri embraced him from behind.

“Tell me,” the skater whispered into Victor’s ear, “does your apartment in New York have a view as nice as this?”

Victor turned around and smiled. “Certainly not as nice as this.”

 

Was there a better way to wake up in the morning than this? In a comfortable bed and next to a beautiful man? Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s chest, embracing him tightly.

“And a good morning to you too,” Yuuri said, pulling his fingers through Victor’s hair.

Victor raised his head. “What will we do today?”

“Today you’re going home.”

“What?” Why did Yuuri insist on playing games? He tried to laugh it off. “I was serious.”

“So was I. Call your assistant and get your ticket changed.”

Victor sat up. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“You are or you’re going to end up in the middle of a gang war with a bullet in your head.” Yuuri slid his fingers over Victor’s chest. “And you’re too much of a coward to stick around with me.”

He was right. Victor could feel fear grip him already. “Fine. But you still owe me five days,” he retorted.

Yuuri smiled. “It’s a deal.”

He took Victor to the airport on his bike. The editor arranged for his luggage to be taken there and then straight to the airplane so he wouldn’t have to deal with it himself.

They stood at the entrance to the gate, neither of them willing to be the one to say goodbye.

Victor looked into Yuuri’s face. His eyes were cold and distant. He was probably thinking about his upcoming fight.

He wasn’t sure who lost this round. He felt like it was him, but at the same time he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d won somehow.

He kissed Yuuri, holding his head with both hands, and Yuuri responded, his hands on Victor’s shoulders.

Yuuri pulled away first. “I’ll see you around,” he said.

“I will look forward to it.”

He walked away, turning around at the last possible moment to see Yuuri raise his hand in farewell. He walked away, not thinking about the lonely New Year’s Eve that waited ahead for him.

 

Yuuri stepped outside, his thoughts full of the editor who was about to leave the country. It was so far from Tokyo to New York…

He shook his head and focused instead on the text he’d received that morning.

“Hello, Yuuri.” He turned around and saw a young man standing in front of him. The man looked cold even in his thick winter coat. “I take it you’re ready?”

“What is it this time?”

The young man handed him a photo. “A bit of a thorn in our side, this one.”

Yuuri nodded to show he understood.

The sound of an airplane taking off made him look up just in time to see it fly.

“What are you smiling about?” the young man asked.

“Princesses and castles.” The smile vanished from his face. “Where is he?” he asked, raising the photo in his hand.

“He’s staying at the same hotel you were in yesterday. Isn’t that a nice coincidence?” He stuck his hand in the inside pocket of his coat. “You won’t be alone this time. Here’s a picture of our contact on the inside.”

Yuuri stared down at the photo of the receptionist that he’d sparred with. “What’s her name?”

“You’ll like her. Goes by the name of Mila Babicheva.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen it yet, [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/162693696473/i-give-you-the-editor-of-runway-victor-nikiforov) is a beautiful picture of editor Victor.


	6. Le Saut Hermès

Victor sat in a meeting, bored out of his mind. As the meeting dragged out he remembered his visit to Tokyo. He longed to see Yuuri again, but he knew the skater wouldn’t come to him. He had to find some sort of middle ground for them to meet at. No matter what he was determined to win in the end and he was convinced that drawing the skater out of Japan was the first step. But where could they go?

Once again he replayed their conversations in his mind, trying to find some ideas there, when a certain memory presented itself. And then it clicked.

“Oh! I get it! _Birthday_ suit!” he exclaimed aloud.

Twenty-three pairs of eyes turned around to stare at him in disbelief.

He straightened up in his seat and pulled an envelope out of his inside pocket. “Just remembering a joke a friend sent me right after Christmas.” The envelope had a bill inside, but they didn’t know that.

They returned to their conversation and Victor wished with every fibre of his being that the meeting would end faster. He’d been interrupted partway through designing something extraordinary and longed to return to his desk to complete it. Ever since his trip to Tokyo he was overflowing with inspiration. He was preparing the most unforgettable issue of _Runway_ and yet they still felt this need to interrupt it for all kinds of nonsense and waste his time.

 

It was mid-January. The sky was grey and it was cold and miserable outside. Victor sat in a bar, downing shots of vodka. He was on his fourth and his mood was still terrible.

Yuuri was playing games with him again. This time he wasn’t answering his phone. Once he picked up, asked irritably what Victor wanted only to hang up again before Victor could even finish.

He needed something to impress Yuuri, but he wasn’t easily impressed. He could try to find something to entertain Yuuri, but he wasn’t easily entertained. What could he do?

He lost count and wasn’t sure how many shots he’d had. That didn’t matter, though, because he had the nice barman to take care of him. If only he had –

His phone rang.

 

Taking out his new target with Mila’s help turned out to be absurdly easy. Not because Mila was such great help, which she was once they’d established that they were on the same side (or working for the same person, at least), but because there was barely any proper security around their target. The bodyguards were a joke and Yuuri kept expecting the real bodyguards to appear and shoot him in the back. Mila watched his back, of course, but Yuuri was wary of her. And, yet, the operation went smoothly.

“Do you want to go for drinks?” Yuuri asked once they’d finished and left the building together.

“I have plans.” She told him. “And even if I didn’t, I still would’ve said no.”

Yuuri shrugged to show it didn’t bother him. They crossed the street and stopped to finish their conversation.

“And, besides, don’t you have that rich man?”

This time Yuuri made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I didn’t say ‘date’. I said ‘drinks’.”

Mila raised her eyebrows. “So you _weren’t_ trying to hit on me earlier?”

“Me? No. I was just trying to embarrass you.”

“Why? You don’t know me.”

“Because I thought it would be funny. Because I’m a bastard. But mostly because I was trying to embarrass Victor.”

“Oh, so I don’t have to string you up by your privates, then. That’s good.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Yuuri Katsuki.”

He watched her go, his hands in his pockets, and shrugged. Maybe their paths would cross again, maybe not. Who could say? For some reason he wasn’t really interested in her anymore.

When Victor called, for the fifth time that day, Yuuri was in no mood to talk.

 

Two weeks later he called Victor himself.

“Aah! Yuuri!” The editor sounded too excited to hear him.

“Are you drunk?” Yuuri asked with a note of suspicion in his voice.

“Only a little.”

Yuuri reclined on his bed and tried to ignore the sudden realization that he’d missed the sound of Victor’s voice. It hit him like a truck and was equally hard to ignore. “I still owe you five days,” he said.

Victor giggled and then hiccupped.

 _God, he’s smashed out of his mind!_ “Do you have someone over there to take you home? Or are you home already, drowning your brains in drink all alone?”

“Why? Are you offering to take me home?” He made an exaggerated gasp. “Are you worried about me?”

 _Damn!_ “No. Just curious.” There was something charming about his drunk voice. Yuuri closed his eyes and remembered how Victor gasped and pleaded for more when they had sex.

“So why are you calling me now?” Victor asked with all the playfulness of a drunk.

“Because I still owe you five days,” Yuuri repeated. He put a hand over his face. God, he _really_ missed Victor.

“I want you,” Victor said in a half-whisper that was probably supposed to sound seductive, but didn’t.

Yuuri felt the blood rush to his face. No, this was so stupid! The man was a spoiled bastard. Yuuri barely knew him. He was drunk out of his mind. Why was Yuuri suddenly reacting in this way?

“Then come here,” he said.

“No, you come here,” Victor said, still trying to be playful. It might have worked if he hadn’t hiccupped loudly after the last word. “Come running and chase me.” He giggled again.

_What the hell is going on with me? I’m not going to lose like this! I held out all this time!_

“I want to kiss you,” Victor went on, once he stopped giggling.

“Then –”

“Right now.” There was the sound of a kiss. “There.”

 _You’re much more fun when you’re drunk!_ Yuuri smiled. “What sort of a kiss was that? I didn’t feel anything.”

“You didn’t feel it? Here’s another one.” Was this really Victor talking? The stuck up, spoiled, too-scared-to-mess-up-his-hair Princess? He’d tried his best to remain calm and in control (even if he was a little too easy to embarrass) all this time, but now…

Yuuri suppressed a laugh. “No, that’s still no good.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Always a dangerous question, that.

Yuuri opened his mouth, his answer ready, and tried to imagine where Victor was. “ _Are_ you in a bar right now?”

“Am I in a bar now? Am I?” Victor made a show of asking the barman and Yuuri laughed.

“I have a request, but I just know that you’ll want to go somewhere private for it.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Would Victor do it? Would he risk the scandal that is bound to follow? He was so drunk that Yuuri suspected that he would.

But he never got a chance to find out if he was right because Victor chose that inconvenient moment to pass out.

 

Yuuri got a phone call the following afternoon partway through practice. He ignored Yakov’s grumbling and skated across the ice to answer his phone. He didn’t go really fast. No, he went at his regular speed. Definitely.

“Yes? The world’s top skater here.” He realized he was absent-mindedly fixing his hair and stopped.

“I’m attending a special event and I’d like you to be my date,” Victor said in a calm voice without even bothering with a preamble.

Yuuri debated making some kind of reference to the night before and decided against it. “What kind of event are we talking about here? Because if you’re inviting me to a party for old rich people, you can forget it: I’m not coming.”

“It’s a horse race. Well, to be more accurate: it’s a jumping competition.”

“Jumping competition?” _Seriously? You’re inviting me to a horse jumping competition?_ “I thought people got bored of horses a hundred years ago.”

“So will you come, or should I find someone else?”

 _Nice try, but provoking me into a jealous fit is really not going to work._ “Do people bet on who wins?”

“Some do, yes.”

“Then we should bet too.” He turned around and saw the look on Yakov’s face.

“Alright. I’ll ask around and find out who the favourite is for the race –”

“You do that. I will pick the one with a name I like, or if I don’t like any of them I’ll pick a random one. We’ll see who wins.”

“And what does the winner get?” Victor asked.

 _You need to learn to keep yourself under control._ “Money. Is there anything else?”

“We’ll need to think of something else, then.” There was a brief pause and then Victor added. “My assistant will let you know the details, but the event is in March. Do you think you can wait that long?”

“You’re the impatient one,” Yuuri reminded him.

“So I take it you’re coming?”

Yakov was two steps and one minute away from a long rant. Yuuri smirked. “I’ll let you know.” He hung up.

 

They met up at the event itself. Victor’s assistant booked them both a room at the hotel, but Yuuri got there after Victor had left. He found clothes with a note asking him to wear them. He debated not wearing them and then noticed that there was more on the back of the note.

_If you wear your usual clothes, they might not let you in._

This didn’t surprise Yuuri in the slightest. It sounded like exactly the kind of thing people like Victor did. _You’re not dressed to watch horses jump around, young man! It’s a disgrace! Go home and change at once!_

It was a boring outfit, anyway. Or so he thought until he picked up the pants to reveal the undergarments lying underneath.

_He picked out my underwear too! What the hell?_

He laughed as he turned it over in his hands. _I told you to wear something kinkier, I didn’t ask for something for myself!_

Yuuri got dressed, gelled back his hair and stopped to admire himself in the mirror. He nodded at his reflection. He was ready.

Victor’s assistant even arranged for a car to pick him up. The driver was too snobby for Yuuri’s liking, but at least he didn’t try to draw Yuuri into a conversation, so Yuuri returned the favour.

 _Isn’t being a rich bastard fun?_ he thought as he reclined in the back seat.

He didn’t bother to look out the window to admire the view like some sort of tourist. He’d been to Paris several times before. He’d climbed the Eiffel Tower once and wandered around the streets.

Two and a half months passed since they’d last seen each other. Victor still called, but after they arranged to meet in March Victor didn’t call several times a day anymore. He probably thought it was his way of proving that he wasn’t impatient and that waiting until March was nothing. Yuuri only called once and only when he knew he would catch Victor at a bad time: there was some kind of fashion show he’d interrupted with his phone call. The newspaper headlines afterwards were hilarious. _Victor Nikiforov Walks out of a Fashion Show to take a Phone Call._ Oh no! The scandal! It was a 35 second conversation anyway.

 

_“Oh damn!” Yuuri exclaimed like someone who’d just realized they’d accidentally pressed the call button. “I meant to call someone else.” He paused to hear what Victor would say._

_“Well, you’re talking to me now.”_

_“Not anymore.” He hung up and waited for Victor to call him back._

_Which he did. Two hours later._

_“Yuuri, I –”_

_“I can’t talk right now. I have practice.” Again he waited for Victor to call after he hung up, but the call didn’t come until the next day._

 

Yakov still gave Yuuri a hard time. For someone who Yuuri said was not a distraction at all, Victor interrupted Yuuri’s practice way too many times for the coach’s liking.

Yuuri closed his eyes and tried to imagine what Victor would suggest they do later. Dinner in the Eiffel Tower? That sounded like him, sure enough. And if he didn’t get a famous chef to cook their food, Yuuri would be really surprised.

By the time he arrived, he’d gone through six different scenarios in his head, all starting from the most cliché date imaginable and going downhill from there.

He’d already had a good look at their hotel room. It was at least as grand as the one in Tokyo had been, if not more so.

 _At least it will be comfortable,_ he thought. _And boring as hell, if I let Victor take the lead._

He walked through the doors of the Grand Palais and took in the crowd mingling in the meet and greet area. They all looked exactly like Yuuri’s idea of the rich and influential.

“Yuuri!” He turned at the sound of his name and saw the King of the Crowd himself: Victor.

Yuuri smirked. “Did you miss me?” _God! I think_ I _missed you!_

“Terribly,” Victor said and kissed Yuuri’s cheek.

 _Oh, damn! We’re playing on your turf now. And I have no idea what the rules are._ He pulled Victor close. “I was expecting a warmer greeting than that. I must admit I’m very disappointed now.”

Victor’s smile widened. “Oh, it will be my pleasure to introduce you to everyone. First, you must meet Stéphane.” He hooked his arm around Yuuri’s and very nearly dragged him away.

Stéphane turned out to be a handsome dark-haired man who had the air of someone who never did anything wrong. This made Yuuri suspicious right away. _And how many skeletons are you hiding in your closet?_

“Stéphane, this is Yuuri.”

“A pleasure to meet you.”

They shook hands and Yuuri muttered a “hello” in response.

“Victor has told me much about you. What do you think of the contestants?”

 _He sure as hell never mentioned your name. Why am I being introduced to people?_ He could feel Victor watching him. _Two can play at that game._ “Well, you know what they say about sport: before anyone goes out to compete, everyone has an equal chance of winning.”

Yuuri was willing to bet that in the history of sport no one had said that ever, but it sounded like the kind of crap people spouted in these situations, so he spouted.

“Yes,” Stéphane chuckled. “And what sport do you play? If you don’t mind my asking?”

“Yuuri is the top figure skater in the world!” Victor cut in.

_Yes, I can answer for myself, thank you very much. And why do I feel like you’re showing me off like some sort of medal?_

“I see. I’m sorry to say I don’t know a thing about figure skating,” Stéphane admitted. “I assume it’s a difficult sport.”

This straightforwardness made Yuuri even more suspicious.

“Yuuri has 15 gold medals and he’s broken the world record six times!” Victor boasted.

_And now I feel like you’re a father boasting about his son._

“Well done!”

Victor led Yuuri away before he could respond to that. “Stéphane is editor of _Vogue_ ,” he explained. “A fashion magazine,” he added, remembering who he was speaking to.

“Doesn’t that make him your rival?”

“He’s my best friend!” Victor protested.

“Really? Well done.” He pitched his voice so that his tone matched that of _Vogue’s_ editor. After a while an odd thought occurred to Yuuri. “Have you slept with him too?”

“Of course not! Like I said: he’s my best friend!”

“Sure. Ok. Whatever.”

Victor introduced Yuuri to several more of his friends and after the fifth one Yuuri pulled him aside for a word.

“I’m not your trophy boyfriend, alright?” Yuuri snapped. “You don’t get to flaunt me around like some sort of _accessory_!”

“B-but I –”

“Maybe you think that flying me over here and then getting the hotel room and giving me clothes entitles you to something, but it doesn’t. Got that? All this,” he made a gesture with his arm, taking in his own body from his chin down to somewhere around his stomach, “can turn around and walk out at any minute.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Victor said, drawing himself up to his full height. “I’m really impressed by your achievements myself.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and cast a look around at the crowd. He tried to keep the disgust off his face. Most of the men were in suits, or one outfit away from a suit. The women were fancily dressed in that way the rich have that said “oh this? I just threw it on” when you just _knew_ that it was worth many dollars. Many of them had strange things on their heads that probably counted as hats if the wearer was rich enough.

Quite a few of them flocked to Victor, showering him with praise for his magazine and his oh-so-essential work for the good of mankind, the history of fashion and the universe in general. Victor accepted the praise with a faint air of smugness that made Yuuri want to punch him.

“You’re very lucky, you know,” one man said (they’d been introduced, but Yuuri could barely be bothered to listen to his name, let alone remember it) in a kind of aside, pretending that Victor couldn’t hear him when he was _right there_ , “not many people can say they’ve worn something designed by Victor Nikiforov, definitely not a lot of men.”

“It’s an honour,” Yuuri said sarcastically, adding an eye roll just in case the man didn’t catch his tone.

The man excused himself, turned around and left.

“Don’t models usually get paid?” Yuuri asked, staring after him.

“How much do you want?”

Yuuri considered this. “I don’t want your money.”

“Then maybe I can pay you in a different way,” Victor suggested.

“Keep yourself under control.”

A waiter came around with a tray of little things that would probably be sandwiches when they grew up. Another waiter had glasses of what could only have been champagne.

“Do they serve anything stronger here?” Yuuri asked.

“They don’t.” Victor picked up a glass. “Why? Did you want to drink me under a table?”

“There’s no table here and hardly something I’d call a drink.” This whole thing was a bad idea. He was starting to think he would’ve been better off on a cliché date. At the very least he could’ve teased Victor about it.

 

Yuuri was bored. Bored and annoyed, but mostly bored. Victor could see that and it troubled him. _God, you’re hard work, Yuuri!_

He remembered their drunken conversation (his drunken and Yuuri’s sober, to be more precise). He’d woken up the morning after feeling incredibly happy because of it. Sadly the phone conversation that followed was as hostile as ever.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand, pulling it away so that the skater could no longer stand with his arms crossed, and kissed it.

“Very funny,” Yuuri muttered.

“You never told me what you were going to ask for that time. Maybe I can give it to you now?”

Yuuri laughed. “Kiss me.” He didn’t wait for Victor to react, just grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed his own mouth against Victor’s emphatically. Victor felt the skater’s tongue and tried to figure out what his taste reminded him of. He closed his eyes and responded.

They stood among the world’s finest, people who learned to have impeccable manners, sometimes taking teachers to explain it to them, and kissed in a way that many would’ve considered rude even if they hadn’t decided to involve their tongues.

Yuuri gripped Victor tighter. Victor could feel his head spin. God! He never did anything by halves, did he? But he gave in and let Yuuri decide how long he wanted to go on for.

Finally he pulled away and Victor resisted the urge to pull him back.

He could say he was bored of this and leave. He could take Yuuri back to their hotel room. He could then surrender to the skater and let Yuuri make love to him.

His heart rammed in his chest at this thought. “My dear Yuuri,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear, forgetting himself and dropping into the pleading and begging tone he’d used before.

Yuuri’s face reddened and he turned away to hide it. Victor pretended he hadn’t seen anything. _Gotcha!_

They found their seats and took them as if nothing had happened. Victor reached out with his hand and grabbed Yuuri’s. He’d reached without looking and, as a result, his hand slipped over Yuuri’s thighs as it hunted for Yuuri’s hand. He risked throwing a look at the skater, but this time Yuuri’s face was impassive.

“We don’t have to stay,” he suggested. “We can go anytime.”

Yuuri remained silent.

“But, then again, being an athlete, you probably have a greater appreciation for sport than I do.”

“The only riding I’m interested in,” Yuuri whispered, “is the kind that includes me on top of you.”

Victor blushed. “If my horse wins, I’m going to be on top tonight.” He turned and took in Yuuri’s face as if issuing a challenge, which, he supposed, in a way he was.

Both of Yuuri’s hands were clutching Victor’s. He was suddenly aware of the fact that had they been in their hotel room that gesture alone would’ve made him surrender.

_God, I missed you! I’ve taken the time to prepare myself for another battle, but I feel like I’m losing all over again._

He raised Yuuri’s hands to his lips.

 

Anyone who’d seen one horse jump had seen them all, Yuuri decided. The whole competition was dead boring. No one fell. No one got hurt. And the jumps all looked more or less the same.

And he couldn’t even mess with Victor. The editor wouldn’t let go of his hands. They’d whispered dirty things to each other for a good five minutes before someone shushed them, spoiling their fun completely.

Yuuri leaned towards Victor’s ear. “And what exciting adventure do you have in store for me after this? Are we going to watch the grass grow around the Eiffel Tower or the paint dry in the Louvre?”

“What do you think of renting a motorcycle?”

“Always a good idea,” Yuuri said. “If your horse wins, I should warn you that I’m very hard to satisfy.”

Victor smirked, keeping his eyes on the horses. “I haven’t left anyone unsatisfied yet.”

“There’s always a first time for everything.”

“I’ll have you beg for more, my dear Yuuri,” Victor promised.

Yuuri pulled his hand free and folded his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

“Do you think you could make me beg for mercy, Yuuri?”

Yuuri snorted. “All I need to do for that is to find the most dangerous area and take you there.”

“I missed you,” Victor suddenly admitted.

Yuuri looked into his face. _What sort of a response am I supposed to give to that?_ “Me too,” the words slipped off his tongue before he realized what had happened.

They eyed each other like two enemy generals who meet after a battle that took most of their armies away. On the one hand they know that any sort of attack is pointless, but on the other – their hands are itching for any kind of weapon to hit the other man with, even a rock.

They turned away and each of them resolved to pretend nothing had been said.

 _Ah hell, what is going on with me?_ He couldn’t watch the competition at all. He didn’t even care who won or what was happening.

Or so he thought until they got to the end.

Victor stood up to applaud his horse while Yuuri remained in his seat. The editor looked triumphant and in control, basking in the glory of his horse’s win, as if he’d contributed to it somehow.

And Yuuri found to his great surprise that he didn’t hate him. He couldn’t hate him, even if he wanted to.

How had he lasted those two months? How had he agreed to them?

But it hadn’t seemed like a mad idea at the time. It was more of a dare. Will you last? Will I last? Now he sat next to Victor with the definite knowledge that he lost and not minding it in the slightest.

“Well?” Victor asked, turning around to smile at Yuuri.

Yuuri reclined in his seat. “Well?”

“I hear they give a really good dinner here after the competition.”

“Probably,” he said with a shrug, “but I was hoping for something more impressive.”

“How do you feel about the Eiffel Tower?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this chapter yesterday, but thanks to a conversation and a really great song I found I was struck with inspiration for a Burlesque AU.


	7. Designed by Victor Nikiforov

There were probably better ways to spend 200 plus euros, but at the moment Victor couldn’t think of anything that could beat seducing the world’s top figure skater. Because seduction was exactly what Victor Nikiforov had in mind. He’d won their little competition, but it wasn’t enough. For a complete victory he wanted Yuuri to submit willingly.

Yuuri scoffed when the waiter brought champagne, so Victor ordered vodka. Now Yuuri sat with an air of indifference, as if he figured fighting was a waste of effort.

 _Five days you promised me and now I only have four!_ Victor wondered if he should’ve planned to take them all at once, but he’d booked them two days this time.

“Yuuri,” he said, taking the skater’s hand and kissing it. “What do you think we should do tomorrow?”

“I don’t really care. You’re in the capital of cliché dates. I expect you’ll drag me off for lunch on the Champs-Elysees and then we’ll watch a romantic comedy in a movie theatre, or eat on a boat on the Seine.”

Victor downed a shot and said nothing. He noticed that Yuuri ignored alcohol completely, but each time he opened his mouth to joke about this he got distracted.

“Well?” Yuuri said, leaning back in his seat and giving the breathtaking view out the window an impassive stare.

“Well what?”

Yuuri sighed. “Nothing. I knew you were boring. Why do I even waste my time with you?”

Victor shifted closer in his seat and downed a fourth glass. “You’re just upset that you lost.”

Yuuri shifted forward in his seat as well and raised an eyebrow. “Lost? You have another shot and I doubt you’ll stay awake long enough to appreciate your prize.”

“Is that a challenge?” Victot downed another shot.

Then he remembered the last time he spoke with Yuuri while getting drunk. “What did you want to ask me? That time I called you, I mean. Did you want a better kiss now we’re not on the phone?”

Yuuri laughed. “If I wanted vodka, I’d have poured myself a glass.” He shifted forward in his seat. “No, I want something else. I already know how tonight will go, how predictable and dull it will be. I want something that will keep me interested.”

Victor’s mind felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton. He tried to think of something, but focusing on Yuuri’s face was already taking a lot of effort. “What?”

“Why don’t you figure out what it is?” Yuuri challenged.

 _That’s hardly fair! I can barely think._ What could possibly excite Yuuri Katsuki?

He remembered how he’d made the skater blush and shifted forward in his seat. “I’d ask if you’ll take care of me,” he whispered, “but it’s my turn and I promise you a good time,” he breathed out sensually. He caught Yuuri’s hand on the table. “Was there more you wanted?”

Yuuri’s hand slipped over Victor’s. “I was going to ask to hear you gasp my name, but it’s probably not the same unless it’s over the phone.”

Victor put a second hand on the table and waited for Yuuri to slip his hand over it. Yuuri ran his thumbs over Victor’s knuckles, staring intently into Victor’s face.

The expensive meal prepared by one of the top French chefs lay forgotten between them.

Victor closed his eyes, remembering how it felt when Yuuri was on top of him. “Yuuri,” he moaned, “please, please don’t stop.”

Yuuri raised one of Victor’s hands and put several fingers in his mouth.

Victor, his eyes still closed, too drunk to care if others were looking at him, went on, moaning and begging for more.

After several minutes he stopped and opened his eyes. Yuuri’s face was bright red.

“I-I think the people around us are calling the waiters over to find out what you ordered. They’re looking at you and going ‘I’ll have what he’s having’,” Yuuri joked.

“Well, they can’t!” Victor almost sang. “I’m having Yuuri Katsuki tonight and I won’t share.”

The hard exterior broke and Victor saw the Yuuri Katsuki beneath it: slightly shocked and very, very turned on. Then the walls were up again and Yuuri chuckled, releasing Victor and reclining in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Perhaps.”

Victor almost climbed over the table after him. He was floating above everything, above those lights below, above the silly people with their silly problems, above the worries of the world and definitely above all social norms and stupid rules such as ‘’don’t climb on tables”. But Yuuri’s eyes were cold again, freezing him to the spot.

_Give me yourself, Yuuri. Give me your heart and I’ll look after it. I promise._

He reached across the table. “Yuuri,” he whispered, “don’t close yourself up.”

Yuuri gave him an odd look. “You don’t need to worry. You’ll get what you want. And then I’m going home.”

“But what about my four days?” the words slipped off his tongue and panic hit him, knocking all the alcohol out of his system with one blow.

Yuuri gave him a sarcastic smile. “I don’t think I have four days of my life I’m willing to just waste away.”

Victor stared. Then he stood up. “If my company is so intolerable to you,” he said coldly, “then I won’t hold you here against your will. You can go now.”

Yuuri rose to his feet. They were less than a meter apart, but Victor could feel the distance stretch out to the distance between New York and Tokyo and then further. Yuuri might as well have gone to the Moon in that second.

“A promise is a promise,” he said coldly.

Victor turned away. “Do whatever you want.”

Yuuri scoffed and walked away.

It took every ounce of Victor’s will to turn back around. He caught sight of his back before the doors closed behind him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Get me the first ticket home,” he told his assistant as soon as he answered the call. Victor went for the door, walking past every single table, past happy couples all staring up at him.

So what if they all saw? So what if they all knew what went on in his soul? So what if it got out into the papers that the editor of _Runway_ behaved inappropriately and was then dumped at the end of a date? So what if he had to have another argument with the chairman of the Elias-Clarke publishing company? So what if it cost him his job, his home, or even his lifestyle?

He would throw it all away for the chance to erase those painful minutes, to undo what they’d said, to fix their mistake.

A waiter caught him in the doorway and reminded him about the bill in the politest way imaginable. It took all of his self-control to not throw his credit card at him.

Seven minutes later he stepped outside onto the street, angry with the universe and particularly with one Yuuri Katsuki.

What had he ever done to deserve such treatment? Why did the skater have to be so _proud_?

He walked along the Seine, trying not to think about everything that had slipped away and out of his grasp.

It was over. He’d lost. He’d lost completely.

He stopped and leaned against the railing, lowering his head onto his hands. He wasn’t going to cry. Whatever he felt, he wasn’t going to give Yuuri the satisfaction of making him, Victor Nikiforov, cry. He knew his worth. He was worth more than ten thousand stupid skaters, more than a million of the handsomest men on Earth, more than –

Someone’s hand grabbed his behind.

He jumped up and spun around. “How dare you –” he began.

Yuuri gave him a sly smile. “You’re not thinking about jumping, are you?” And then the sly smile was gone, as if his ears heard what his mouth had said and didn’t like the sound of it. He stepped forward and slid a thumb over Victor’s cheek. “Don’t cry, Princess, I’ve come back.”

“Yuuri.”

“I gave my word –”

“Stop talking,” Victor interrupted. “Just. Stop.” He pulled Yuuri close. “You can be on top, if it matters that much to you.” He could feel how wet his cheeks still were.

Yuuri laughed softly. “Oh no, I think I’m curious enough to let you lead the way.”

Victor’s phone rang. He stepped back and pulled it out of his pocket, holding Yuuri’s arm tightly, not willing to release him, afraid he would run away, if given the chance. “Yes?”

“I changed your ticket,” his assistant told him, “to two hours from now.”

“Why did you change it? I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“You said – Yes, I’ll change it back right away.”

He ended the call and smiled at Yuuri. “Do you have another day for the boring editor of a fashion magazine? Or do you need to train for the World’s Championship?”

Yuuri caught him in a kiss. “Take me to your room,” he whispered, pulling away and raising an eyebrow in a way that Victor found bewitching.

“Your wish is my command,” Victor whispered back and Yuuri burst out laughing.

 

30 minutes later, when Victor was on top of Yuuri, the skater burst out laughing a second time. Victor pulled away and turned him over to look into his face.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, calm down, Princess.” He sat up, pushed the pillow back against the wall and reclined against it. He ruffled Victor’s hair with a smirk. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“D-did you enjoy it at least?” Victor asked, sounding more flustered than he’d liked, which is to say flustered at all.

Oh, Yuuri had moaned and groaned the whole time, but something about the way he did it made Victor suspect that the skater was mocking him.

“I did,” Yuuri said, his hands on Victor’s shoulders. “I especially enjoyed the feel of your mouth on my ass, when you pulled my underwear off with your teeth.” He laughed. “Will you kiss my ass next time too?”

All Victor’s mind registered of Yuuri’s answer were the words “next time”. The rest was dismissed as unimportant detail. He reached over for a kiss.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Yuuri joked and pulled Victor close.

He’d undressed Yuuri completely this time, ignoring the sarcastic smile the skater gave him as he did so. Then he’d stripped in front of Yuuri.

 

_Victor had never tried to strip seductively before, but – as the saying went – there was a first time for everything. He’d been to several strip clubs (where he’d picked up that pole dancer once) and he’d seen how it was done. Except that usually they had music to help them along._

_He stripped in silence while Yuuri lay naked on the bed and watched impassively as if he was watching a boring show on TV._

_He started with the jacket of his suit, then came his expensive shirt. He remembered the way Yuuri had unbuttoned his shirt once: standing behind him and seeking out the buttons with his fingers. Victor slid his own fingers down now, as casually as he could, while keeping a cold smile on his face._

_One button, two, three... He slowed down as he got nearer the end, his eyes on Yuuri, waiting for the skater to do something. Anything._

_Yuuri remained still._

_The shirt slipped off Victor’s shoulders and onto the floor._

_Yuuri sat up straighter._

_Victor unbuckled his belt and removed his pants. He folded them over a chair, temporarily breaking eye contact with Yuuri._

_When he looked back Yuuri was smiling._

_“Come here,” Yuuri beckoned with his finger._

_Victor stepped up to him. The editor was in one of the items he’d once designed with Chris for the company that later became Victoria’s Secret. The underwear consisted mainly of mesh and barely covered him at all._

_Yuuri reached out and ran his fingers over it. “I see you remembered my request.” He looked up into Victor’s face, his head at the level of the editor’s waist. “I’m very grateful,” he said sarcastically before pulling it off Victor._

_Yuuri tumbled onto his back. “I guess this is where I say: ‘take me, Princess’.”_

_Victor climbed over him. “I promise to find out what you like best, Yuuri.”_

_And if Yuuri’s groaning had been earnest (and not sarcastic as Victor suspected), then he had. The trick was simple: Victor only had to make good use of his hands the whole time._

_It went exactly as Victor had played it out in his head._

_Until Yuuri burst out laughing._

 

Victor wanted to lie like this the whole night long, his face pressed against Yuuri’s neck, but Yuuri had other plans.

He turned them over. Now Victor was the one lying on his back and Yuuri – the one on top. The skater kissed the editor’s neck.

“Yuuri...” Victor whispered. “What... What will we do tomorrow? Do you want to go for a ride?”

“I can give you one right now.”

Victor reclined his head as Yuuri’s lips reached his chest. “Don’t stop... please. Yuuri... _please_.”

“We’ll we’ve learned the word ‘please’ at least,” Yuuri said, sounding very pleased.

“Yuuri... why did you stop?” He pitched his voice to sound as weak as he could make it.

The skater ran both of his hands over Victor’s chest. “I’ll get a motorcycle and we can take a scenic ride like tourists,” he suggested.

 _Oh God!_ Victor felt weaker than he’d ever done in his life. He was almost melting at Yuuri’s touch. It was a good thing he was lying down. _Yuuri, anything, just don’t stop now._ “I...” he breathed out. “I want to know when I can see you again... I’ll...” Oh, to hell with it! He’d lost already and threw out the white flag of surrender. “I’ll come see you compete at the World’s Championship... if... if....” He gasped as Yuuri’s mouth reached his stomach. “If you.... don’t...” He couldn’t continue.

Yuuri’s hands cleared the way for his mouth, tossing a small item over the side of the bed. Victor had made sure to be prepared this time. They didn’t need to ask at reception and Yuuri didn’t get a chance to flirt with someone else.

 _I won’t let you go,_ Victor suddenly thought, feeling Yuuri’s fingers on his thighs. _Even if that means losing completely._

They’d fought their match, using every weapon at their disposal. It was time to admit defeat, fold up the broken weapons and shake each other’s hand.

And then invite each other out for a drink and a heart-to-heart.

“Yuuri...” he moaned over and over again, unable to stop.

The skater sat up and smirked. “I want you to come watch me compete.”

“I will.”

 

There were many rumours going around about Yuuri Katsuki. Some said he had a girlfriend among the top female skaters. Some said he bribed the judges to get his world record-breaking scores. Some said he threatened the judges. Some were even more ridiculous than that.

But one rumour was completely true.

Yuuri Katsuki was dating Victor Nikiforov, the editor of _Runway_ , the women’s fashion magazine.

Victor sat near the front, dressed in his best and attracting curious stares from the people in the audience. He’d sent a package to Yuuri’s apartment several days ago and he wondered how Yuuri had reacted to it.

“Representing Japan – Yuuri Katsuki!”

Yuuri went out on the ice to enthusiastic cheers and applause from the audience. He was dressed all in black with gemstones on his chest and at his waist. He had a half-skirt with a red inner lining. One sleeve was made of a mesh-like material.

He skated past Victor and blew him a kiss.

Victor shouted Yuuri’s name.

Yuuri assumed his initial position, the smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The Eros music started to play and Yuuri raised his arms. This marked a historic moment and when the most seductive dance Victor had ever seen ended and Yuuri got his scores the occasion became an even more historic one.

That day Yuuri Katsuki broke the world record yet again, wearing the first ever skating outfit designed by Victor Nikiforov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can never remember the name of the movie that I took the restaurant scene from, so... credit goes to that movie for the idea, whatever that movie's name is. You know the one.
> 
> Initially, when I thought of a crossover between the two fics, but before the plots of Interview Me and More Please were born, I thought of a hypothetical conversation between bad boy Yuuri and editor Victor in which Yuuri gives him a hard time and tells him that he can’t believe that someone who looks like his boyfriend (Victor from Bad Apple) can be so revolting and also mentions meeting journalist Yuuri and being disgusted by his personality. I couldn't decide how that conversation would end, so I had to come up with two separate plots instead. There was also an alternate version of Interview Me where it turns out that Yuuri is actually a cop who infiltrates gangs who started out as a gang member himself and gets pulled into another bad case just as his match with Victor gets interesting... But I didn't want a really long crossover, so I scratched that idea. It sounds better as an original story, anyway.
> 
> If I didn't have ideas for another 10 different fics, it's possible I would've continued this story, but alas, no. Now I just need to decide which to post next: the Burlesque AU, the single parents AU, the War and Peace AU, or a different story altogether... What do you think?


	8. Epilogue: Captured

They’d agreed to meet up that morning and he knew Victor would leave early for work, but when Yuuri awoke and found the space beside him was empty he scowled angrily.

Of course it would be!

Well at least he’d left without waking Yuuri up.

He turned over and considered staying in bed, considered _not_ going, but he remembered all too well how it had gone last time.

 

_“Yuuri, you promised to come. Why aren’t you here, yet?”_

_And then he did the worst thing possible: he started using pet names. And probably loud enough for his staff to hear too._

 

Anger propelled Yuuri out of bed and off on a search for his clothes. He grabbed his helmet and ran out, past the startled servants whose names he never bothered to learn and out into the courtyard of the house.

His bike waited for him outside. The servants had learned long ago that if they dared to move it into the parking lot, then they always had to bring it back out for Yuuri before he walked out and discovered it wasn’t there.

He strapped on his helmet, climbed onto the bike and was off, past breathtaking views, past all the traffic he dodged, past several police cars that tried to give chase.

Let Victor deal with the traffic tickets later.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down until he got to the right address.

The doors were opened by people who’d learned to recognize hell when they saw it drive in and he stepped inside, his helmet clutched under his arm.

“Yuuri!” Victor walked out. “You came just in time!”

“Yeah, whatever.” He pulled a gloved hand through his hair and smirked.

It was still enough to get a blush out of Victor. Even after…

He chuckled. “Alright, let’s make this quick. Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere,” Victor responded in a voice just loud enough for Yuuri to hear and then, for the benefit of the rest of his staff, turned and led the way with the words, “This room right here will be just right, I think. It should be ready now.”

Yuuri caught him around the waist. “I’m ravenous.” There was that blush again. “I haven’t had breakfast, so this better not take all day. Unless you can make it worth my time.”

“Yes, yes.” Victor pulled free gently, straightened his clothes and went on. “I think I have a good theme in mind.”

But Yuuri was determined to keep going. Maybe it was the hunger talking, maybe it was something else. “Although, I might agree to settle for Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor stopped in front of a door and turned to face him. “You’re always so impatient, dear.”

“Lucky for you: it’s just the way you like it.”

With a laugh, Victor swung the door open.

It was a big room, probably, but because it was brightly lit in the middle, it was hard to say just how big it was. There was a couch with a fake wall behind it, looking like a bit of someone’s house. The studio lights were all pointed at it. Several assistants were making last minute adjustments, placing pillows on the couch and moving them around.

“The couch, if you please,” Victor said with a smile.

Yuuri dropped lazily onto the couch.

They made him switch poses, trying to capture who-knew-what. They must have grabbed a photo of him from every angle imaginable.

He was starting to get really impatient. One of the assistants kept fussing over his hair and another one hovered nearby, makeup brush at the ready, but could never find the courage to approach him.

Victor pushed them all aside. “No, this is no good. Give me that camera.”

The photographer handed it over wordlessly.

“You don’t understand anything. You have to keep the model’s identity in mind. This isn’t how you photograph Yuuri Katsuki at all.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

“Lower your eyebrows, dear, otherwise this won’t work.” Victor shook his head. “I’m trying to capture the living legend as he truly is.”

The living legend resisted the urge to point out that, in some ways, Victor had already done that. Instead he reclined on the couch, his legs slightly apart, an expression of feigned interest on his face. “I’m ready.”

Victor snapped a few photos. “Pull your hand through your hair.”

Yuuri followed several silly instructions, but even the fact that Victor was the one issuing them was starting to irritate him. _Especially_ since Victor was the one issuing them.

He leaned forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Why don’t you join me?”

The camera snapped another photo in response.

 _Let’s see how far you’re willing to go._ Yuuri unzipped his leather jacket slowly, his eyes still on the man in front of him. _Oh would you look at that? I’m not wearing anything under my jacket. Now what will you do?_

Victor took more photos.

The chain necklace around Yuuri’s neck caught the light as he beckoned Victor over with his finger.

Everyone else was dismissed. They probably all rolled their eyes at them as they walked out, but Yuuri wasn’t going to break eye contact with Victor now.

The editor stepped forward. He slid his hands over Yuuri’s thighs. The camera lay forgotten on one of the tables the assistants had used for their things.

Yuuri remained still.

“No camera can do you justice,” Victor whispered. “Have I ever told you that?”

“No,” Yuuri answered softly.

Victor lowered himself onto his knees. Their eyes were still locked on each other’s. They both breathed slowly in time with each other.

“I’ll never let you go,” Victor suddenly said.

There was a smirk on Yuuri’s lips. “I thought that was my line,” he whispered.

“Then you promise to never let me go?” Victor whispered back.

_Damn!_

They still kept their little battles up, even though the war was long over. It was hard to say which of them had lost it. That was up to the judges (if someone could find a panel of judges willing to come up with an answer). But they both acted like they’d won.

Victor put Yuuri’s hands on his face. “Are you sure about retiring?” he suddenly asked.

This was the conversation they’d avoided. Yuuri never interfered with Victor’s decisions about his career. When the editor left _Runway_ to move to Paris and start a men’s fashion magazine Yuuri said nothing. Now Yuuri was officially retiring from figure skating. At the age of twenty-nine.

“Yes, I’m bored of wining gold all the time.”

“I’ll miss watching you beat everyone,” Victor told him, “but it’s all your decision, of course.” He brought Yuuri’s right hand to his face. “I’ve only ever won one gold medal in my life,” he said, kissing the ring on Yuuri’s finger.

“You sentimental old man,” Yuuri teased.

“Kiss me,” Victor whispered.

“Will you take your clothes off for me?”

Victor stood up, holding Yuuri’s hands in both of his. They still hadn’t broken eye contact. He released Yuuri’s hands and raised his own to the skater’s face, sliding them over his cheeks and burying them in his hair.

It was hard to keep his eyes open. They were oh-so-determined to close of their own free will.

“I want you,” Yuuri whispered, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“I have work to do,” Victor responded, his face inches away. He leaned in for a kiss and Yuuri raised a hand between them.

“I’m not kissing you until you take your clothes off.”

“They can walk in on us any minute,” Victor breathed out.

 _I doubt that. They know us well enough to stay away. I bet they’re all off smoking, or drinking coffee, or whatever it is they do when they’re on their break._ “Then lock the door,” Yuuri said with a shrug. “Or come home with me.”

“You’ll take me back on your bike?”

“I’m willing to make that small concession, yes.” He could see Victor’s resolve weaken. “I promise to have you moaning for more as soon as you take your clothes off.” He gripped Victor’s waist with both hands and then slid his hands further down.

Victor’s eyes darted aside as a blush rose to his cheeks. “I… I’ll lock the door.” He swallowed and turned to go.

They were only married for three years, but Yuuri had already figured out that Victor, for all of the fights he put up, really enjoyed being beat. He enjoyed surrendering. Yuuri sometimes wondered why. Maybe it was a feeling all people in power got?

If Yuuri had undressed him then Victor wouldn’t have protested, he was sure of it. He would’ve forgotten about the door and everyone else.

Instead he went to said wretched door and paused with his hand over the handle.

_Well, if you want to keep playing._

The lock clicked. Victor turned with a smile only to find the couch empty. The bird had flown.

He ran to the window.

Yuuri sat on his motorbike, zipping up his jacket. Luckily for him he’d parked it under the right window and the climb from the second floor hadn’t been all that hard. “Have fun at work!” He pulled his helmet on and was off.

The staff at Victor’s new magazine had long ago gotten used to all the flirting that went on between the editor and his husband. Any new hires who came were told to expect it every day and think nothing of it. And if they witnessed anything really scandalous, well… that was just their way of being married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to leave this fic open-ended. But today at 3 am while I was looking for songs on YouTube for Yuuri to strip to for [Comes Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11858748/chapters/26774304) I ran into a Chanel Ad ([you know the one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJwE8edYEyw)) and then I wondered why I hadn’t seen it before and, of course, I thought of Victor and Yuuri, and well, it went downhill from there...


End file.
